


Saving Draco

by Violets



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bonding, Fanfiction, Forced Marriage, Good Draco, Harry Potter - Freeform, M/M, Marriage, Seventh year, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:10:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violets/pseuds/Violets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I really wanted to try a bonding/marriage fic, and I haven't written a Charlie/Draco one before, so I figured I'd have a go. As Draco has the dark mark, he can only be taken into the order- and protected- if he has someone to take credit for his actions, someone to look after him. A spouse. His only option is Charlie Weasley, the 'attractive, intimidating one'. R&R (The rating may change)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intimidation

**Author's Note:**

> My first Charlie/Draco fic, though I've written Drarry and Snarry (which is posted on fanfiction.net). It should be rather long, and the rating may go up as it progresses. R&R

Saving Draco  
Chapter 1- Intimidation

Draco felt more than a little out of place as he walked into an office filled with ginger Gryffindors. He counted in his head, noting that here was, in fact, nine Weasleys present at the gathering, all seated upon the two sofa’s and three chairs that graced the usually spacious and empty part of the room. All of them had turned to look at him as he entered the room, as if they had actually expected him to be there. 

That was a bit peculiar to Draco, who hadn’t known a single thing about them being there, having only just received a note from old Dumbledore, who had only written that he needed to see him immediately.

Oddly, Mrs Weasley smiled kindly at him when he entered, and gestured for him to sit in the empty space on the sofa opposite her, next to Charlie Weasley, who looked slightly nervous.

“Have a seat dear, next to Charlie. I think the headmaster should be along in a moment, and your father should, too.” This confused the blond even more, but he nodded mutely, and then sat down obediently next to Charlie. The man was well-known to be the attractive one of the Weasley bunch, though Draco really couldn’t understand why. Though the man had very pleasant features, a sort of soft face upon a rather muscular body, one built up from hard labour, Draco could barely even sit next to him.

He knew he was cowardly, being scared of a Weasley, but Charlie's very presence was just so intimidating. He held a darker aura than the rest of them, and his muscle made him lose the lanky look that applied to the other Weasley brothers. This made him scary, and for Draco, that successfully squashed any attractiveness that he may have thought the man had.

Draco found him pathetically scary, especially knowing that the man played with highly dangerous dragons on a daily basis. Whoever said that dangerous men were attractive, clearly hadn’t actually met one, in Draco’s opinion. He managed to sit still, though, without his lip wobbling in the way it did when he was properly scared.

It wasn’t ‘conversing with the dark lord’ level of terror, but he still did not want to be as close to Charlie as he had been forced to sit.

He leaned back against the cushions, subtly placing as much distance between himself and the red-head as was possible, and tried to ignore the somewhat alluring, masculine scent that had filtered through his nostrils. 

It wasn’t a specific scent, and Draco could honestly say that Charlie did not smell like a bed of roses. At all. In fact, it was a slightly sweaty smell, one that he did find a bit comforting, warm and nice. It was a scent that only really appealed to people who had spent time in a cosy bed with a nice, comforting boyfriend. 

It actually made him miss Blaise, who had been both his first friend, and first boyfriend. They hadn’t been together in a long time, but Blaise was the only person that Draco had ever had a proper relationship with, and the Italian had been a good friend as well; even when they weren’t dating, Blaise had cuddled up with him for comfort. 

Blaise had gone into hiding nearly a year ago, with his half-blood boyfriend; Seamus Finnigan. The blond would have been lying if he said he hadn’t been initially hurt by this, though he knew he could hardly run away, with them. Just like really, when he had calmed down, he was happy that Blaise was safe.

They all sat in an awkward silence, Draco trying to breathe normally. It was odd, how whenever one becomes aware of how they are breathing, it is difficult to make it seem to go back to normal, to not concentrate on it. 

Eventually, the door opened, revealing a tired looking Albus Dumbledore and Lucius Malfoy, who looked far less proud than he usually did.

The blonde’s hair was matted, like he hadn’t gone through his usual grooming routine, and his clothes were slightly dirty, which was peculiar, considering that the man was never normally seen in a less than impeccable state.

“Father!” Draco jumped up, almost elbowing Charlie in the process, who quickly moved his head back out of the way. 

“Do sit down, Draco. There’s no need to be so dramatic.” His voice held the usual smooth edge, though he spoke less forcefully than usual, as if he couldn’t muster the effort to properly scold his son. Draco nodded anyway, and resumed his seat, closer to Charlie than he had been before as his father had successfully distracted him from the scary redhead.  
He coughed lightly, clearing his throat, before turning to talk properly to the elder Malfoy.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Father, why are you here?” Out of the corner of his eye, Draco noticed Mrs Weasley frowning slightly, as if unhappy. He first wondered what he had done to irritate the woman, then secondly pondered why on earth he cared. She was a Weasley, and if the youngest were anything to go by, they all had terrible manners.

“We have a problem, Draco.” Lucius answered quietly, before picking some of the dirt from his robes as if embarrassed. Everyone else in the room found the motion disconcerting; this was far different from the Lucius Malfoy that the public usually saw.

“Oh? What is it?” Draco turned even further in his seat, so that one of his knees was up on the sofa, so that he could see his father better.  
Lucius gave him a reprimanding look for not sitting properly, then sighed, his face looking slightly tired.

“Your mother has informed me of something earlier today.”

The youngest Malfoy couldn’t even remember the last time his parents had properly talked to each other, but knew he would be considered impertinent if he asked in front of all of these people.

Instead, he nodded sharply, and waited for Lucius to continue.

“According to Bellatrix-“ Here, he paused, and Draco joined in;

“- May her damned soul rot in hell-“ [They both smirked at their little mantra for whenever they mentioned Narcissa’s evil sister]

“The dark lord wishes to…initiate you shortly.” He looked slightly to the side, the way he always did if he had to say something that he thought was distasteful or not polite for company.

Draco just looked confused, and his hand flew to his left arm subconsciously.

“But Father, I already have that ghastly mark.”

“Do not refer to it in that way.” Lucius barked out automatically, before he shook himself. “I apologise, Draco. It’s a habit, as you know. That’s not it. You know that. Your mother bares the mark, though is not an active member, a part of the circle. She is one of the masses, as you are now. Your age is only thing that saved you at the time.”

“Then I have been assigned a mission of some kind?” He enquired softly.

“Don’t mumble, Draco. And the word mission is hardly appropriate; do not romanticise the whims of a psychopath.”

The Weasleys did not appear as surprised as Draco would have thought they’d be; clearly Dumbledore had shared Draco and his Father’s views with them beforehand.

“I’m sorry, Father.”

Lucius nodded. “You have been ordered to let his inner circle into the castle, where you are to…assassinate Albus.”

There were collective gasps of shock from the youngest four Weasley's, who clearly hadn’t been given all of the information after all.

“That’s very easy to fix, Father. No-one in their right mind would think me powerful enough to kill Professor Dumbledore. I would only need to fake trying.”

Lucius shook his head. “You are to be handed a time limit, Draco. Should you fail…” He didn’t need to finish.

Those with important missions, who failed after a certain amount of time, were always killed. Horrifically.

“Well, what am I supposed to do, then, Father? I can’t kill anyone! Remember, even when the evil bitch made me try and ‘practice’ on a Muggle I couldn’t do it, and they were defenceless! You have to mean it, which is something I simply can’t do!”

“I don’t expect you to, Draco! Do you honestly think we would be here if that were the case!” He slammed his staff against the floor indignantly, which made Draco jump and Ron supress a smirk.

“No, Father.”

Lucius’ face relaxed a little, and his hand loosened its grip on the staff. “Right, Draco.”

Albus Dumbledore now moved forward from his desk , to stand just in front of Lucius, but to one side, so that both could see the young Slytherin.

“Draco, you have been asked before if you wished to become a member of the order.” Dumbledore started, and was interrupted with a somehow dignified snort from the Slytherin Prince.

“I said yes, if it were possible, and you said afterwards that it wouldn’t be possible. Remember, Professor? I did ask for help, you know.”

“Draco! Do not talk to your elders in such a disrespectful way!” Lucius turned to Albus, and inclined his head in the closest thing Lucius got to bowing. “I apologise, I think Draco is just a little confused.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright, Lucius. You should hear some of the things Harry has said to me.” 

Both Malfoys expressions darkened at the mention of the saviour, though Lucius’ expression was far milder than it once would have been. With him, it appeared to be automatic. With Draco, he had simply copied the expression from his father at such a young age that he found himself applying it to his childhood rival without really thinking why.

“I think I would rather not, Albus. Mr Potter always says exactly what comes to his mind.”

“Yes, yes he does. I find it like a breath of fresh air after talking to the majority of my associates. I never have to worry about him lying.” Albus smiled at Lucius, then turned back to Draco, his blue robes swishing around his feet. 

“I could not safely induct you into the order, Draco, however much I wished to. Cornelius has a new law passed. Well, not new, per say. Just…edited. Anyone in the presence of a marked Death Eater is ordered to hand them over to the ministry. As an organisation, he would all have been arrested, every single one of us, including Harry and Ronald. Absolutely all of us, which would have left no-one there to fight. We would have been attacked by both the ministry and Voldemort in one fell swoop. Which is, regrettably, not something I was willing to do.”

Draco nodded. It did make sense, no matter how much he hated it.

“And now?” He arched one fine eyebrow in an amazing imitation of his mother.

“Now, we have passed a new law, specifically for young people like yourself, who didn’t have a choice, as well as for others- like your father- who have found themselves…disillusioned.”

Draco just blinked several times, waiting for him to continue.

“And this is? I cannot think of a single situation which would make it necessary for the Weasley’s to all be here to witness this.”

Lucius cleared his throat softly, looking a little uncomfortable. This did not instil confidence in any way.

Dumbledore’s eyes flicked across the Weasley’s, then came back to rest on the only young Slytherin.

“You can now, if you wish, be inducted into the order.” Dumbledore paused, knowing that Draco would not be happy with his options. “If, and only if, there is a member of the order who can vouch for you at all times. A spouse.”

That was the last thing Draco had expected to slip from the old codgers lips. That was positively absurd.

Draco glanced to his father for help, only to find the infamous cool Malfoy mask on Lucius’s face as he stared at a spot on the stone wall.

“Father, is he serious?”

Lucius nodded. “He is indeed. I know you are not happy, Draco, but you should be grateful for the choice. All things considered, that is not the worst thing possible.”

His eyes came down from the wall to brush over his nails. “After all, Draco, you should have expected an arranged marriage at some point.”

“Then why are the Weasleys here at-“ Comprehension dawned on Draco’s face and he glared at his Father.

“Just who am I expected to marry?”

Lucius stood up even straighter than before, and straightened out his collar. “The way I see it, Draco, you have three options. One, you try and carry out your task. If this is the case, you should consider yourself disowned. Secondly, you could get yourself…close to the dark lord.-“

“You know I’m not going to do either of those things! How dare you father! I am neither a murderer nor a whore! Who am I supposed to marry?!”

By this point Draco had gotten himself in rather a state, and was shaking slightly, though it wasn’t visible, as he knew that he would marry whoever it was. If the choice was between some order member Gryffindor, he would take that over playing concubine to the dark lord  
.   
Only Bellatrix had sunk that low, though she killed people at his will anyway, as he did not consider her important enough to be given the luxury of hiding. She was also insane enough to take please in the acts on torture of murder, no matter who she was attacking.

“We had to think this through, Draco. Most order members are already married, and the majority, as with most groups of people, are heterosexual. No-one can marry if they are already married, despite their state of affairs with their spouse, and the union must, in a certain amount of time, be consummated. After that Zabini, I obviously knew of your…preferences. We could only find two people, and one of them is not yet of age.”

Here Dumbledore butted in, ignoring the look he got from the aristocratic Malfoys.

"The one not yet of age, Draco, is the one I am sure you would not have chosen anyway, Draco. Bear in mind, if you chose to wait for the other to come of age, you would be in more danger in the meantime. You would also be married to Harry James Potter."

"Well, I think anything beats that. Who is it?”

“Me.” A soft voice to Draco’s right cut in to the conversation, and the blond turned to look at Charlie Weasley. He looked slightly reserved, but not altogether annoyed at the turn of events. That was surprising; Draco could not fathom why this man had clearly actually agreed to give up his life to save him from the evil psychopath.

“Why on earth would you agree to that?!” Some of Draco’s incredulity slipped out, and his eyebrows rose so high they nearly combined with his hairline.

“Why wouldn’t I? I am not a petty person Draco, I know when it’s life and death, rather than childish stupidity.” His voice was still pleasant, even with the harsh quality that accompanied his words.

He briefly wondered why any Weasley would address him by his first name, before noting that he had never actually spoken with this particular Gryffindor before. At least that was something; he had yet to say something offensive to Charlie.

Draco nodded slowly, and bought his hands up to run through his hair, something he didn’t allow himself to do very often as, since it had grown partway down his neck, it left him looking rather unkempt. It was one of those days, however, when he simply didn’t care.

He didn’t know quite how to respond to this situation; it wasn’t something he had been taught to deal with, like courting or dinner parties. He even knew how to go through official proceedings to eventually propose, but everything he knew only applied to pure-blooded women, and this wasn’t a situation that was proper or actually arranged. He wasn’t quite sure how to cope.

While thinking of a response, something else flittered to his brain, and he was grateful for something else to say.

“What about you, father? Professor Dumbledore said there was an out for you, too. Who are you marrying?”

Lucius laughed lightly, an unexpected sound that Draco very rarely heard.

“I’m not, Draco. Due to the contracts drawn up my mine and your mothers parents, we cannot divorce. This means that I cannot remarry.”

“Then what are you going to do? If you stay, he’ll just take it out on you.”

“You actually worry for me? How unusual, Draco. I am going on the run.” He swallowed as if he had eaten something rather large and sour. “Without magic, so I can’t be traced.”  
Draco noticed that his father didn’t seem too concerned about this, other than the ‘no magic’ part.

“You aren’t going on your own, are you?” His eyes narrowed slightly.

“No, Draco. Myself and Severus will be leaving, right after the last school day of the year; next week. We will be travelling with two others, order members, until we’ve thrown off anyone following. Once we’ve done that, the four of us will hide in a safe house until the end of the war.”

Draco processed this, his face turning a little desperate. “Will I be able to contact you?”

Lucius smiled, an uncharacteristic expression that he had been told made him look both younger and far more attractive. “Of course, Draco. I’m not abandoning you. We can exchange notes, you can write any letters, and they will be passed to the secret keeper during meetings. It may be a little while before that is possible, but I will try, Draco.”

Relieved, Draco let himself sag forward a little.

“Thank you, Father.” 

“There’s no need for that, Draco. I am your Father. It will make me feel infinitely better to know that you are safe.” 

Draco turned to look at the man sat beside him, who looked even more intimidating now that he knew he would have to be married to him. It was a scary idea, having to give up his control and lifestyle to someone else. Even since he had come out as gay, he had thought himself as at least an equal partner, if not the one in charge. 

He met Charlie’s eyes, and the redhead seemed to sense his worries immediately.

“Whatever your imagining, Draco, I assure you, I’m not that bad.” He smiled slightly, showing pearly white teeth. The expression was so genuine that it made Draco’s own lips curve upwards slightly.

“Yeah, Malfoy’s that bad though.” He heard Ron mutter, before the youngest male Weasley was chastised by his mother. That made Draco’s smile widen somewhat.

They didn’t seem that odd, really. It was a million times better than either of his other two options. Draco sighed silently, then pulled on his bravest Malfoy mask.

That dropped, very quickly, when he met his father’s fond gaze.

The blond stood up, then ran to his father, giving him a big hug, something that he hadn’t done since he was six years old, and had accidentally done it in front of Lucius’s business partners.

They hadn’t been happy, and Lucius had been embarrassed by his sons behaviour. Draco hadn’t done it since.

This time, though, the older Malfoy hugged his son back warmly, both all too aware of their impending separation.

“Thank you, Father.”

“That’s quite alright, Draco.”

Draco pulled away, feeling slightly more emotional than he was used to. He blinked rapidly, then turned to Dumbledore.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”


	2. Week One

Saving Draco  
Chapter Two- Week one

Draco sat next to Charlie on the sofa, both awaiting their instructions. For all intents and purposes, this was to work almost exactly like an arranged marriage- they were expected to ‘court’ one another for a set amount of time beforehand, before a very formal bonding ceremony, which would be far less joyous and carefree than the plans showed Bill’s and Fleur’s to be.

After this, of course, Draco would be handed over to the Weasley’s, thus ending the Malfoy family line, and they would be expected to consummate this new bond.

The whole thing was frightening to Draco, who was only seventeen. Not many men marry that young; it seemed to be a little stereotypical, but Draco had noticed that all of the seventh year Slytherin females had been promised to men at least five years older, who were just about ready to settle down. It was just how things were done.

Not only that, but when he had been talking things through with his father, he had heard all of the Weasley’s speculating on ‘who was that, and where was the real Lucius Malfoy.’ Draco thought they were being overly rude, all things considering. It was easier to put up with when he had actually done something wrong, to earn that tone of voice from Ronald and Ginevra. But this was something rather unusually selfless that his father had done, and Draco wished that they would shut up before they offended Lucius. 

It was very, very surprising to Draco, that Lucius would go this far to look after him. His whole childhood, he had been told that, like Lucius himself, he would have to marry a pureblood lady to carry on the Malfoy line, regardless of anything else.

But when it came to it, Lucius had actually decided to merge the Malfoy line with the Weasley line, and there was absolutely no chance of a Malfoy heir. It appeared that he had wanted to make it easier on his son, rather than finding him a wife from the order. That would have worked just as well; it just would have made Draco incredibly unhappy.   
Dumbledore finally moved from his seat, which successfully interrupted Draco’s musings, and glided over to the window, where the black, brown and white owl was waiting for him. The bird was rather showy and proud, and more uptight than any Malfoy owl, a clear sign that it belonged to one Cornelius Fudge. 

The bird tried to bite at Dumbledore as he removed the letter from its beak, but the old wizard manoeuvred his hand at an angle, which successfully removed the letter without actually coming into contact with the violent owl’s beak- clearly he was used to corresponding via such a violent owl.

At some point after Draco had agreed, Ginevra and Ronald had been sent back to class, around the point where Ronald had made a joke about Draco being a housewife, something that had clearly stung the blond. Charlie had Mrs Weasley had simultaneously told him off, and at some point after this, Mr Weasley had thought it best for the two youngest to return to their study.

After this, Charlie had sank back into his seat, looking slightly deflated, which confused Draco greatly; he had always thought that Ronald Weasley always behaved like that, and as his brother, Charlie should not have been surprised. He was curious as to what the redhead was thinking, and wanted to know why on earth he had agreed to this, but did not want to address him directly, lest he start off the arrangement by irritating the magically –and physically- powerful man.

Their positions on the sofa meant that their shoulders were close together, and whilst glancing around randomly in an attempt not to stare at anyone, Draco had noticed that there was a lock of red hair resting upon his shoulder, which bothered him greatly. The blond had to squash down the urge to swipe the hair from his shoulder, not because the actually thing was irritating, but because it was proof of how close together the two of them were already.

Physically, obviously. They knew nothing but assumptions of each other as people.

Albus resumed his seat at his desk, and eyed the two young men sat together, watching them look around nervously. Personally, he thought the contrasts made them a handsome couple, Charlie being large and muscled, but with a kind, almost feminine face, and Draco, being slender and graceful, his face all angles, though those had been gentled kindly by the growth of his hair. Yes, together they were rather striking, but he didn’t think they would appreciate being told that.

Albus scanned the orders that were barely legible- Cornelius had a habit of writing in a messy scrawl, as if it made him seem busy and the documents seem more official, which was simply annoying, as his own personal files and such were written in a neat print, which whilst not pretty, could at least be easily read.

“Mr Weasley, Mr Malfoy, it appears your guidelines for courting have been set. You are to have a three week set, as I made it clear to Cornelius that we were pressed for time, rather than the usual twelve weeks. During this time, you are to meet a minimum of three times, in a public place, to have an open courting. On the month, from now, you are to be bonded, here, in this office, unless either of you wish to do so elsewhere. “

Dumbledore stood up and walked over to Draco. “There will be ministry official here, so your father cannot serve as your witness. However, both him and Severus will be there, disguised as two friends from the order. They said they wanted to be there, though they know they will have to continue running immediately afterwards.”  
Draco swallowed the lump in his throat, and nodded quickly. He felt a little teary. “Thank you, Professor.”

“It’s nothing to do with me, dear boy. At our most recent order meeting, two of our members offered to do so; they felt that you had the right for them to be there, considering your bravery in switching sides.”

Draco was taken aback. To him, there was absolutely no bravery in running and hiding from a psychopath. It wasn’t like he had supported him at all, or had anything to gain by staying with the Death Eaters. Then, there would have been an actual choice involved.

It was obvious there weren’t really options when marrying into the Weasley family was actually encouraged by Lucius Malfoy. Draco frowned.

Dumbledore caught sight of this, and smiled slightly, before turning to Charlie. “Mr Weasley, when and where would you like the first outing to be?”

Charlie chuckled lightly. “Considering the predicament we’re all in, we only have two options. Diagon Alley, or Hogsmede.” Charlie turned to the boy beside him, which made his chin nearly knock into the side of Draco’s face, they were sat so close. 

“Draco? Which would be easier for you?”

Draco looked even more shocked than he had before. Why on earth was he bothered about what Draco wanted? 

Draco glanced up at Dumbledore. “Will I still be at Hogwarts then?”

Dumbledore smiled a little, the movement of his beard being the only real indication of it. “Yes, Draco. You will stay at Hogwarts, where it is safest until three days before the bonding, at which time you will be moved to the Burrow, so you have time to…acclimatize.” He said the last word slowly, as if everyone knew that Draco would most like be displeased by his accommodation.

“Okay.” Draco looked back at Charlie, and was a little mesmerised by the fact that his blue eyes were so close to Draco’s own. “Ummm, Hogsmede, if that’s okay with you. It’ll just be easier to get to.”  
Charlie smiled at him, nodding his assent. “That’s fine. I’ll see you at Honeydukes at ten thirty, then, Draco.”   
“Okay.”

 

His alarm went off at nine, as Draco had set it to the night before. He needed the time to get ready; despite what the Gryffindorks may think, he didn’t wake up looking smart and tidy.

Also, there was one, very little known fact about Draco Malfoy. He wasn’t, in any way, a morning person. At all. With a groan, Draco hit at the projection from his wand, ineffectually shoving his hand through it. It wouldn’t stop until he picked up his wand, and he couldn’t quite reach it from where he lay across his bed.

It took several more minutes before he had sat up enough to pick up his wand, which immediately stopped the blinding amount of light and shrill, irritating noise, that only he could see or hear. He had placed a charm around the curtains of his bed, so as not to disturb the rest of the Slytherins, who were all still asleep.

Draco crept into the bathroom- his previous prefect status could have still allowed him into the prefects bathroom, but he no longer felt safe going there alone- and snagged the shower stall furthest from the entry to the dorm, so that the noise of the water wouldn’t disturb any of his roommates. Unfortunately, each shower stall held different shampoos, and as he normally selected the one exactly in the middle, he was used to using expensive but unscented shampoo. This particular stall was filled with products to make one smell like apple. And the body-wash was grapefruit. SO, he was going to a first meeting with the man he was supposed to marry, smelling like apple and grapefruit. 

He sighed, and squeezed some of the shampoo into one hand, briefly wondering whether Charlie liked fruit.

-He cast a drying spell as he slipped out of the shower, and noticed straight away that his hair held more ‘bounce’ than usual. 

His hair had gone femininely soft, and a little fluffy. Not overtly so, but enough for him to notice as it moved when he walked.

Draco dressed quickly, in dragon-hide boots, a dark green short, thin robe, which held a line of black buttons down to his waist, where the remainder parted to show his trousers, and a long black coat, which blended well with the robe and he left undone. He thought it was a good mix of wizarding robes and informal wear, which he picked out purely because his companion was a Weasley.

It was traditional to dress up in these situations, though thick formal robes were not something Draco could picture Charlie appreciating, and despite everything, he wanted to make a good impression. It simply wouldn’t do to annoy his future husband on their first outing.

He even wondered if Charlie would be offended by the dragon-hide boots, and deliberated whether to change to simple canvas-style slip-ons, before remembering that he had seen the man in his own pair of those boots before.

He spent too much of his time worrying, and only had five minutes to scarf down a slice of toast and cast a cleansing charm on his mouth before he had to leave, rushing out the great hall to the path to Hogsmede. 

Most of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were on their way down as he walked, and Draco only passed a few other Slytherins, all much younger than himself as he headed to Honeydukes. 

This did not concern him, though, as he knew of the patterns of most of the houses, and was well-aware of the fact that all of the Hufflepuffs were probably in the little trinket shop, all the Gryffindors were probably heading straight for the Three Broomsticks, and all of the Ravenclaws (plus Granger) were most probably in the ancient bookshop on the edge of town. The rest of the Slytherins would be out hours later, and this Draco was actually grateful for. 

He had no doubt that many-after being brainwashed by their parents- would be out for his blood the second they heard of his arranged bonding to Charlie, who was ginger, male and a Gryffindor. To top it off, he was known to be an active member of the Order of the Phoenix. Yes, it was good that they weren’t all there to witness this, because though Charlie would be there, he didn’t feel even close to safe. 

The red-haired man was waiting outside of Honeydukes, as arranged, when Draco got there, a bag in one hand, and a tiny leather satchel over his shoulder, which crossed over to rest on him waist.

The man wore the dragon-hide boots that Draco had remembered earlier that morning, and wore practical black trousers (which were similar in style to Draco’s) and a black shirt. However, he wore no robe, not even the most informal of options, instead wearing a pale green jumper that fit snuggly and looked so soft that Draco thought it had to be hand-made. It held no pattern at all, had had a rounded neckline, so the collar of his shirt only just poked out over the top.

The Slytherin would have loved to have been offended by this clearly careless clothing, as not wearing any robes at a meeting normally signalled disrespect, but the man looked so at ease, and so normal that Draco couldn’t bring himself to be bothered by it. 

He, after all, hadn’t worn traditional clothing either. 

The redhead spotted him almost immediately, and rose one hand to wave in greeting, a big grin stretching over his face. Draco had to catch himself as he nearly responded, his hand half raised to respond with the same ill-mannered gesture. 

Instead, he nodded, and curved his lips up into a more refined smile, which he normally wouldn’t have bothered with, but the Weasley's grin was too infectious for him not to.   
“’Morning, Draco!” Charlie greeted him cheerfully, as if this wasn’t the beginning of the end of his free life. He seemed to be making the best of things, that was for sure. Either that, or this particular Weasley was rather good at making friends, and expected Draco to at least be added to this list before their bonding.

“Good morning, Charlie.” Draco answered rather quietly, with a small hitch in his speech as he spoke the man’s given name. It was normally considered impolite, unless he had been specifically told by the elder to use it, but he thought that Charlie would think that to be rather strange, and that would make the meeting even more awkward than it needed to be.

The Gryffindor’s smile morphed from welcoming to kind, and his eyes seemed quite gentle; either the man was a good actor, or he was genuinely giving Draco a proper chance.   
“Right, is there anything you want to do today?”

Draco tilted his head to the side. “I don’t think I need to do anything. Though, I do want to get a gift for my father, as he leaves tomorrow. Well, for the first part of his journey, anyway. If that’s alright with you.”

“Of course it is. How about, we have a look around Honeydukes, as we are already stood in front of it, then you can look for your gift.” Charlie walked to the door and pushed it open, holding it open for the blond. “Oh, and you have a choice of the Three Broomsticks or the Hogs Head of lunch.”

Draco entered the warm shop, inhaling the scent of candyfloss, fudge and brownies as he walked, before turning where he stood to look at Charlie. The man had sounded slightly happier at the prospect of the Three Broomsticks, which he probably loved from his own time at Hogwarts, and though Draco didn’t want to run into too many Gryffindor’s, he thought it was nicer than the Hogs Head anyway.

“The Three Broomsticks.” He smiled, and Charlie’s grin appeared to have stapled itself to his face.

“Good choice.” Charlie answered appreciatively, before wandering off down one isle of sweets.

He returned a minute or two later, behind Draco, to clasp a hand over his eyes. It wasn’t the best idea, as Draco immediately tensed, scared someone had caught him already.   
Well, until the person behind him leaned close, and he could smell that masculine scent again as lips descended to his ear.

“Relax, would you? It’s only me.” 

The smooth honey-like voice went straight through his brain, and Draco sagged forward with relief. 

“Oh, Merlin, Charlie! There’s people on both side out for my head, and you thought that would be appropriate?!” 

Charlie would have made a comment about how uptight the Slytherin was, if he hadn’t heard his panic in his voice. Instead, he chuckled a little sheepishly, and waved a blue bag in front of Draco’s face.

“Sorry. I didn’t think about that. I wanted you to try and guess what these are.”

Draco turned to frown at him. “Why?”

Charlie shrugged loosely. “Because it’s fun.”

The blond rolled his eyes, but obediently spun in a circle and shut his eyes. “Okay, then.”

He could tell the Weasley was surprised, for his paused before rummaging around in the bag for something, which he pressed to Draco’s lips.

Draco pouted lightly, then parted his lips to accept the treat. 

It took one bite for him to guess. The original taste was actually a little like cardboard, but as soon as he bit into it, fizzy sherbet was released, which Draco recognised instantly.  
“They sell flying saucers?!” His eyes flew open to gaze questioningly at the older male, who pointing to the isle he had previously been in, labelled ‘Good Muggle Sweets’.   
He was dumbfounded. The Slytherin prince ate old Muggle Sweets? That was just odd.

“When on earth have you eaten that before?”

Draco smiled, properly. Clearly Charlie had thought he wouldn’t ever guess it. “Uncle Sev would give them to me when I was upset. When I was little I mean, and Mother and Father were out doing the Dark Lord’s bidding. But only if I promised not to tell mother. She thinks using anything Muggle is practically a sin. Or did at the time, anyway. She’s not like that anymore.”

“Severus Snape eats sweets.” Charlie started laughing, loudly. Several shoppers had turned to see what was so amusing, only to find a gawffing redhead next to a petite blond, who didn’t look nearly so amused.

“Yes. He is a human ,you know. And I suspect he mostly bought them to keep me amused. He used to charm them to actually spin around, so I had to catch them first. It was like practice for Quidditch.”

“Yes, but they’re Muggle sweets!”

“So, you’re eating them. And you’re a pureblood.”

At Charlie’s quizzical expression, he amended it to: “Severus is a half-blood.” 

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“I know, hardly anyone does. Everyone assumes that just because he’s a Death eater, and a Slytherin, he must be a pureblood. You see, you Gryffindors are just as bad as us for assuming.”

Charlie nodded. “I knew that already. I have heard my youngest brother speak, you know.”

“I don’t like him.” Draco stated automatically, as if it had some sort of baring on their bonding. 

“You don’t have to. He doesn’t like you either, and I’m sure that’s not new news.” He looked away slightly, as if worried as to Draco’s response. “If you could try and just not say anything to him, it would be a great help, Draco. I don’t want any arguments over this.”

Draco nodded. “I’ll try, but you can’t expect me to hold my tongue should he verbalise any issues with me.”

Charlie shook his head a little, biting his lip. “I didn’t say you can’t defend yourself. Of course you can. Just don’t start anything.”

“Fine.”

Draco walked off to the ‘Muggle Sweets’ isle, to get his own. Charlie followed him, which was a good thing, because Draco had an amazing sweet tooth, and took forever to pick out sweets.

“He got some more flying saucers, some Haribo, a box of fudge and his usual container of chocolate frogs.

Which were placed in two layers of sweet bags, for they little blue papers weren’t really thick enough for people like Draco, who cleaned out half the shelf. The old shop assistant smiled at him though; she thought it was sweet that the teenage Slytherin ate so many sweets.

The bags weren’t really all that necessary, as the second they left the store, Charlie offered to take the bag, which was then dumped into the small leather satchel, which appeared to have an undetectable extension charm on it.

Draco didn’t know why he was so surprised.

They walked along, feeling too awkward the hold hands as one usually did when out with their partner, instead simply walking close together, their strides matched perfectly, with their shoulders occasionally brushing against one another. 

It was a bit odd, and a bit awkward, and both were thankful when they found the next store that Draco wanted to look through.

Well, he only looked in the window of the antique store before finding what he wanted. A silver bracelet, goblin made, where the circle was made from the shape of the body of a panther, with black onyx gems outlining the bottom to show the colour if the animal, and Slytherin green emeralds as the eyes. It was absolutely perfect.

In fact, Draco had been literally drawn to it; they had been on the far side of the path when it had caught Draco’s eye, and the blond had grabbed the Gryffindor’s wrist to pull him as he ran to the window. This hadn’t annoyed Charlie though; in fact, it reminded him of when Ginny had dragged him shopping once –not that he would admit this to the easily irritated and prideful Slytherin- and it had a rather endearing quality to it. Such childish excitement.

“Look at that!” Draco tapped the glass with his finger, pointing it out to Charlie. “My father’s patronus is a panther! That would suit him perfectly!”

With this, Draco walked into the shop, still dragging Charlie behind him. The bracelet was absurdly expensive, and jewellery was something that Charlie reckoned he only ever bought for his mother, on mother’s day, rather than the sort of thing he would buy for his dad. However, Draco was a Malfoy, and he clearly knew Lucius better than anyone else did, so Charlie didn’t comment.

In fact, he did think it quite sweet that Draco was so happy buying gifts for his parent; most of his own siblings only bought gifts when they were obligated to do so, and Charlie didn’t think that would change, even if they suddenly had loads of money.

They arrived at the Three Broomsticks at rather an odd time; it was too late for the students who had just arrived to get their drinks, and too early for most of the later people to want to get their lunch [most of them had probably stopped by the great hall before leaving] and so the pub held barely any students at all, which Draco was rather thankful for.   
The last thing he needed was a Slytherin/Gryffindor argument whilst he was trying to eat.

Madam Rosmerta looked rather pleased to see Charlie after such a long time, though did momentarily raise an eyebrow at the company he was with. This expression cleared quickly though, and she took their orders with her usual cheeriness.

For once, Draco could be bothered with his normal ‘upper class’ nonsense, and ordered two hot pumpkin pasties with a butterbeer, which Charlie also ordered.   
He had to admit, he preferred pumpkin to quail any day.

For a first meeting, it was rather successful, Draco had to admit. It could have been a lot worse. It could have been completely horrific, but it wasn’t. Though loathe to even think it, Draco knew that it had been far more pleasant than most of his dates, and the conversation was far less forced. Over their lunch, they had talked a lot, and their topics of discussion flowed easily without pregnant pauses.

Yes, it could have been a lot worse.

And when Charlie arranged the next meeting for the next Saturday, in Diagon Alley, he found himself a little pleased. He wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but he was leaning towards content with it. For now.

The Gryffindor walked him back down the path to Hogwarts, leaving him at the apparition point so that he could go home, and Draco caught himself staring at the point where Charlie had vanished.

He wasn’t falling head over heels in love with him; it’s just that the contrast between his expectations and the reality was so great, that he couldn’t help it.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three- Week Two, Move one- Part 1/2

Charlie hadn't missed the grey, appraising eye that had immediately looked him over upon the first meeting, and thought he had better look far better with the second. Charlie Weasley had never dressed up for anyone he had dated; he figured that if they were serious, they would get used to how he looked normally, as he would never make any permanent change.

Draco Malfoy, however, would probably never have picked him as a prospective boyfriend, and would have to put up with him the way he was, regardless. This knowledge prompted Charlie to actually don a faded grey robe atop his grey blue shirt, in a compromising attempt at dressing up for his partner.

Of course, this came with another compromise in the opposite direction, and he switched his black trousers for some worn blue jeans, almost grey with age, which slung low over his hips in a way that a previous boyfriend had described as enticing. They were his most comfortable jeans, and he hated wearing robes, so he felt like he deserved to wear them.

This, of course, came with its own problem, as the long slightly wide ends to the baggy jeans didn't fit well into his favoured boots, and so he had to wear his black dress shoes, which did, admittedly, make him look a tiny bit smarter, like a Muggle business man on the weekend. [Or so he thought.]

The colours would have been drab and boring on someone of any other colouring, but with Charlie's complexion and hair, he looked a smart-casual, with his hair appearing to hold enough colour to compensate for the robe.

He was actually rather pleased with the overall effect, as well as relived when his mother, for once, did not fuss over his clothing. She had done so the last time, asking him if that had been his usual dress code for dates, back when he had still been in Romania. Then, she had let him go reluctantly; this time, the cheerful woman literally pushed him through the floo.

He landed through the fire in the leaky cauldron, and promptly stumbled in a manner that was entirely befitting of Harry Potter, who seemed to fall over no matter how many times he tried to floo. At least he hadn't covered his robes in soot, as that would have immediately made him look scruffy. He could picture Draco's nose wrinkling in distaste had the Weasley waited for him in unclean clothes. He probably would have been forced to go to Madam Malkin's, as if it were an emergency.

The Leaky was pretty empty, with a few dodgy looking fellows sat in one corner, their eyes shifting around as if they were about to do business in Knockturn alley, and a young girl sat on the table at the front looking depressed and dishevelled as she hungrily gulped down the most disgusting-looking porridge Charlie had ever seen. Tom waved as he regained his footing, then went back to sweeping the absolutely filthy floor, as though it would make him appear to be busy.

Charlie nodded, then walked to the door of the leaky, through to Diagon Alley. Where he was hit by an amazing display of British weather. Despite being early July, it was pouring with rain, soaking the ground and causing the dips in the ground to create deep, muddy puddles. Well, that was a perfect setting for a date. Positively romantic. No, the blond wasn't going to be happy with this at all. The Weasley could practically hear that posh voice in his ear, sounding snobby. 'How dare the weather ruin my perfect hair!' Well, that was a little exaggerative. But only a little.

Charlie cast the tempus charm, noting that there was still ten minutes before Draco was to arrive; he had set the time very specifically, and no Malfoy would ever be too punctual.

With a rush of relief, he jogged across the street, straight to a handy little store titled 'Missus Wendy's Odds and Ends'. It was the only place in Diagon Alley that it would be possible to purchase an umbrella. Though they were Muggle contraptions, they were useful, as both fashion items and as guards against rain for those who did not know the more complex charms to ward away the weather.

The woman who owned the store was indeed called Wendy, and had a hunched, shrivelled appearance, but was perfectly nice to talk to, and she grinned toothily as Charlie entered the shop.

"Alriigh' deeaar?" She drawled, before slowly making her way around a table towards him.

"I'm fine, thank you." He gazed around the messy piles of various things and sighed. "Do you have any umbrellas?"

The woman frowned, which made her look exactly like the drawing Charlie had once seen of a witch from a Muggle picture book –an evil woman who had pushed a small child into an oven- before she smiled again a few seconds later.

"I've just got the one, m'boy." She ran around a cabinet to a box that held hats and scarfs, and tipped it upside down, shaking everything out until, finally, a large black umbrella thumped to the floor atop the pile. She picked up the item, then used her wand to levitate everything else back into the box.

"It's five sickles, lad. Hardly anyone uses them at the moment. The Weasley's Wizard Wheezes are selling these hats which are basically the top of an umbrella as a hat, which sticks out enough to shield the body. It's a cracking invention, don't you think? Not a pretty item to wear, but amazingly practical."

Charlie was filled with pride for Fred and George. They really were doing astoundingly well, though he knew it wasn't entirely without help- there was no way that they themselves had saved enough to open the first store. However, the actual success was all their own, and the second shop opening in Hogsmede showed their careful planning.

He didn't know why he hadn't thought of going there for something rain-proof. A millisecond later, and image of a certain blonde Slytherin wearing one of their hats danced across his mind, and the Gryffindor supressed a laugh.

That would be why.

He paid the woman, declining her somewhat odd offer of a bag for it, and left the shop, rushing back to wait for Draco.

Who appeared exactly as the metaphorical clock stroke across the minute, wearing a grey trench coat with black dress trousers. Charlie didn't know if he wore robes underneath, but guessed that if he did, they were very thin, for the blond had the belt of the coat tied tight around his too-skinny waist.

He quickly ran forward to were Charlie stood, frowning as if the weather was deliberate.

"It. Is. Raining." He ground out snobbishly, before lifting a hand to brush his hair away from his face. Charlie wasn't put off by this in the slightest; he had expected this sort of reaction from the Malfoy. It was, after all, why he had bought the umbrella.

"I know that, Draco. Unfortunately for you, I have no control over the predictably English attempt at summer. Hence, I picked up the umbrella, to stop us from getting soaked." He waved one hand at the blond, gesturing him forward. "Come here."

Draco didn't need to be told twice. He immediately walked right up until one of his feet was between Charlie's, his head nearly touching the much taller man's chest.

"So, what are we going to do in this?"

It wasn't a ridiculous question. At all. The rain was very heavy, and if there had been a little more wind, it wouldn't have been possible to hold onto the umbrella at all.

"If it isn't too far beneath you, we could venture out into a Muggle area. If we go to one of their shopping centres, we will be indoors for most of the time, rather than out in the rain."

Draco ignored the sarcasm contained within the first phrase, and smiled up at the redhead. He had always wanted to go to a Muggle shopping centre, but even when he asked Severus the man had only taken him to the little food market near his house. "Yes, that sounds great!"

This surprised Charlie, and he smiled warmly down at the Slytherin. "Alright, we just need to walk over to the apparition point, then." Diagon had spent a lot of money on sorting out certain points to apparate rather recently, in an effort to stop people from apparating stolen goods out of stores.

"Right." Draco made to walk forward, then realised that he was placing both his betrothed and –more importantly- the umbrella behind him. He turned back to glare, an expression that simply made his eyes look larger and sulkier than normal, and received only a chuckle in response. He had expected the Gryffindor to at least look slightly contrite.

"Come back a step." Charlie waited for Draco to move, then placed one hand on the blonde's arm, using the grip to manoeuvre him into standing where he wanted him. Charlie made sure that the Slytherin's shoulder was rested in front of his own opposite one, then moved the umbrella to his other hand, and wrapped one arm around his waist.

"Place the your hand over mine." Charlie ordered quietly, and Draco did so automatically, reaching across to place his porcelain hand over the warm tanned one of Charlie's.

This placed the umbrella directly above both of them, and also placed them very, very close together. It was the only practical option though, and the larger man was rather warm and comforting to be pressed up against, so Draco didn't really think that he had any reason to complain.

"Right. Come on. Just don't walk too fast, or try rushing around people, and we should be okay." Draco nodded in agreement, and they walked quickly to the labelled apparition point.

Which happened to be surrounded by puddles. Large, muddy puddles that Draco hadn't even noticed. He almost stepped in one before the arm around his waist tightened.

"Jump." Charlie told him, and he did, curious as to why. Charlie jumped too, pulling them both forward over the worst of the puddle, though he did still have to grip the blond tightly to make sure that his shoes (Italian, this time) didn't slip in the mud.

They arrived in front of an absolutely enormous building, with doors that opened whenever anyone walked a certain distance away from it. It was like magic. For Muggles. Draco pointed at the doors in shock, and Charlie laughed aloud at the expression of astonishment upon the Slytherin's face. Granted, he hadn't visited a shopping centre either until he'd left home, but he had done so very often since then, and Draco's expression amused him.

As excited as he'd been on the last trip, Draco rushed forward, completely forgetting that the Gryffindor was attached to him. He nearly stumbled as Charlie's grip on both his waist and his hand pulled him backwards, and turned to glare at the redhead.

"It's bad luck to have the umbrella open inside." Charlie explained, as they stood next to the doors whilst he closed the contraption. Draco's eyebrow rose in confusion.

"Muggle superstition." Charlie said, by means of explanation. Umbrella down and now in one hand, Charlie relinquished his grip on the blonde's waist, though he quickly took hold of his hand instead.

"May I ask why you are holding onto my hand?" Draco tugged against the tanned fingers which had tried to entwine with his own, frowning.

Charlie frowned right back, feeling a bit disheartened. "We're going to be married, Draco, and you won't even hold my hand?"

Draco shook his head in one short, jerky movement. "No, I don't see why we would do so. It's not like either of us had a real choice; why are you pretending like you care?"

Charlie sighed. "You're not going to let this go, are you?" He didn't wait for a response. "I'll explain while we walk. It'll take a bit of wander to work out where everything is, anyway."

This time he simply extended his hand, a hopeful expression crawling across his eyes. Draco hesitated for a moment, then sighed, and lifted his own to entwine it with Charlie's. He squeezed gently, then began to walk, pulling Charlie along behind him.

When Charlie began to talk, the smile in his voice was unmistakeable, and it took Draco by surprise. This man, who was older, wiser and nicer than Draco was made happy simply by having the blond hold his hand? 

"My parents' marriage was arranged, you know."

"So? It's is common. My parents' marriage was arranged too, obviously." Draco's tone held a hint of bitterness, as though he thought that it was a terrible thing to have happened.

"Wait, really? Sorry, my response was automatic. Your parents can't have been. They're actually happy." 

"Exactly. They were told that they were to be married, and in the initial meetings, tried to learn as much about each other as possible to prepare them for having to live together. Actually, they each made a list of things they would not accept in a life partner, and then swapped. Dad had to quit smoking, and Mum had to stop dressing in men's clothes."

Draco sniggered, and Charlie glared. "My mum wasn't very confident as a teenager, you know. In case you haven't notice, she's not the Barbie-doll type. Luckily, her general appearance was what Dad wanted anyway. What I was saying –before you laughed- was that I think that this could work. If we both pretend this is a normal date, and go about it normally. We can exchange lists later, if you want."

"I don't want to do the list thing. I think I'll just point a few things out if we come across them. But, okay."

"Okay?" Charlie echoed.

"Yes, okay."

Charlie leaned down, and gently pressed his lips to the blonde's cheek, lightly kissing the pale skin. He lingered, breathing deeply, marvelling at the soft, clean-shaven skin against his lips.

"Come on, let's go have a good look around."

This time, Draco took hold of Charlie's hand, though he pointedly avoided any eye-contact with the man.

Charlie grinned, and together they walked.  
Chapter four- Week Two, Move one Part 2/2

This time, Draco took hold of Charlie's hand, though he pointedly avoided any eye-contact with the man. 

Charlie grinned, and together they walked. 

It turned out that for all his pureblood breeding, Draco adored the shopping centre. When they walked in, the first shop they had encountered had been a discount bookstore, which had been a light source of amusement for at least three quarters of an hour.

They had both been quite entertained by a section called Teenage Fiction', which held some utterly ridiculous notions about vampires, werewolves, and wizards. Some of them were actually a little scarily close to the truth, and the battered copy of Dracula which appeared to be mostly ignored in the bottom corner of the shelf was as precise as it was biographical. All Bram Stoker had changed was the names.

Others, however, were laughable, particularly a specific saga that contained 'vegetarian' vampires (who Charlie and Draco both agreed would have succumbed to the blood-anger and attacked others and each other long ago), shape-shifters that all conveniently took the form of a magical creature (so they were not animagi, as only the occasional wizard could take on a magical form) and transformed painlessly into werewolves, and Muggles with absolutely no survival instincts.

They had howled with laughed over this, Charlie chuckling deeply with the occasional high-pitched wheeze, and Draco giggling in a decidedly non-masculine manner, which drew the attention of a girl who couldn't have been older than thirteen, who glared dangerously before sweeping away, her cape swirling behind her.

That was odd, too. Draco had been told that should he ever venture into the Muggle world, he was to be very, very careful about his attire. No-one accept the occasional eccentric Muggle wore a cloak, or formal robes. That was what he had been told. But compared to a surprising portion of people they had seen, both wizards looked astonishingly normal. Little girls seemed to wear wings and tutus, and boys were wearing black capes with t-shirts featuring a bat, others wearing blue with a red S.

Many teenagers wore cloaks, and lots of people were covered with sweeping black cloaks in a style that rivalled Severus Snape's teaching robes.

Had they turned up in full formal wear, Draco thought, they would have gotten a few of the disturbed looks that were being handed out by elderly people, but nothing more.

Eventually, they were asked to leave by a short woman in her fifties, who had smiled kindly at them for much of the time, so that she could leave for her lunch break. They would have taken offence, had she not genuinely smiled at them, and apologised for interrupting their fun.

They cleared out easily, and carried on around the vast amount of space that held many, many shops.

Of course, Draco was curious to see what was on the next floor of the building, as the layout of the shops in the centre meant that he could actually see that there were shops three stories up.

"Charlie, how do we get up there?" He couldn't see any staircases.

"You know the staircases at Hogwarts? How they like to change?" Draco nodded, wondering where this was going.

"Well, Muggles have these things called escalators. They're fixed in place, so they don't swivel like the Hogwarts staircases. But you only stand on one step, and that step moves to carry you to the top." Charlie explained patiently.

The Slytherin simply looked confused, and so Charlie pulled him over to the left of the large space, where the nearest set of escalators were.

"Look, there." He pointed their joined hands at it, and Draco looked over the object with interest. They watched as people walked up to it, waited until they could step firmly onto the middle of the metal step, and was then carried up to the top.

Despite everything Draco had seen, this Muggle, non-magical machine was a little daunting. He didn't know how it worked, and there was no guarantee that it wouldn't brake. He glanced up at Charlie, his face apprehensive.

The Gryffindor smiled comfortingly, and walked even closer, pulling Draco with him. "Come on, Draco. It's nothing to worry about, I promise."

"What if it breaks?" He asked softly, as his eyes turned back to the escalator.

Charlie chuckled softly. "Then the steps will simply stop moving, and you will be standing on what is really a normal staircase."

That didn't sound too bad, Draco decided. "Okay, let's try it." He walked so that they were directly in front of the funny stair-case, and then Draco looked down at the steps that appeared to materialise from a small cut in the floor.

That was not just a moving step. The Slytherin breathed in, and forgot to breathe out again, and he watched step after step drag itself from the floor. He felt lightheaded, and shook his head slightly, closing his eyes.

Charlie let go of Draco's hand, and wrapped his arms around Draco's shoulders comfortingly, squeezing him lightly until he heard the blond exhale, relaxing a little.

"We'll step together, okay?" Draco nodded dumbly, and prepared himself to step, only for Charlie to lift him effortlessly and place him carefully on the escalator. The Gryffindor stepped up behind him, and kept his hands resting on the blonde's waist, wanting him to keep that sense of security.

Though it was slightly amusing that the almighty Slytherin prince was scared of a little tiny escalator.

Draco stepped forward automatically when they reached the top, something for which Charlie was thankful for, as it stopped him from having to stumble forward to help him.

The anxiousness over the Muggle machine seemed to have imbalanced Draco a little, as when they walked off, he was even happier than he had been before, with a bounce in his step as he looked in the various windows of an accessory store.

It was sweet really, that he had been so worked up over something so small, but Charlie simply smiled, and forced himself not to comment. He did not think that Draco would have taken kindly to it.

They walked all the way around, and Draco seemed to spend a vast amount of time walking around every inch of the last shop, as though it could really prolong the inevitable use of another escalator, either to the top floor, or back down to the bottom one.

He glanced in several trinket boxes, and rummaged through all five of the 'bargain basins'. All too soon, however, they went for the next floor, and this time, Draco tightly held onto Charlie, allowing him to move them both as he had done before.

The escalators weren't so bad, especially when the Gryffindor helped him, but Draco still didn't like it. At all.

They both ended up buying silver chains, something that Charlie had found in one of the antique stores that littered the top floor. It was an odd shopping centre, with lots of the normal clothing stores, but also smaller more peculiar ones; Charlie hadn't wanted them to walk around a massive shopping centre, as they would have been far more likely to attract attention, and a lot of the larger ones had ten of the same shoe shop, which was rather useless when loitering around.

Draco seemed to be enjoying the Muggle experience, and that was what counted.

These chains had little dragons on them, sculpted neatly from silver, with intricate markings over the back. They were small and cute, and Charlie thought they were nice. He had several Dragon trinkets which he had gathered over the years, and even several with real dragon scales gifted from the more friendly dragons at the reserve.

The Slytherin had thought it nice as well, and had proudly placed it around his neck immediately, ordering Charlie to follow suit.

It was all fine until they reached the last shop. They had barely glanced over the second self before Draco's pale skin took on a slightly sickly pallor, and he froze, his eyes widened like a doe's as he looked forward in fear.

"Charlie?" He whispered urgently, his grip on the Gryffindor's hand tightening painfully with his fear.

Charlie immediately gave him his full attention, turning to stand close as he took in the blonde's terrified expression.

"What's wrong?"

One shaking, white, slender hand lifted, and he extending one finger to point to the other end of the small shop, where some of the more valuable antiques were kept locked in cabinets.

A thickset man was standing in the corner, his face set in what had to be a permanent expression of gormlessness as he stared at a small silver cup that stood out from everything else in the store.

It rippled with magic.

The man himself was balding, and wore a loose long-sleeved black shirt as if to make himself look swamped in clothing, thus attempting to hide his rather rotund stomach. It did not work and with the shirt over-sized as it was, the sleeves were both to wide and too long for him.

There was a light line of bulge in the right, as if a hand-holster was there, and the left sleeve was held in place by his left hand, the shirt was that long.

Charlie was not stupid, and he had every reason to believe that Draco's fear was founded.

Move first, ask questions later.

Charlie placed one hand over Draco's mouth, in case he made a noise, and then slowly shuffled them towards the door. Like many of the shops that had no alarm system or detectors for theft, the actual door had a bell, so that the owner knew whenever someone entered or left the store.

That added a slight problem, but was easily fixed. Charlie was thankful that his betrothed was both short and slender, as it meant that he could easily cover his body as they left the shop.

Draco tensed when Charlie moved away from his side, then deflated again as he felt the Gryffindor behind him, reassured by his scent. Charlie stood directly so that the man would not view Draco at all, should he look around, only seeing a red-haired man, which actually wasn't as uncommon as the particular blond colour that every Malfoy seemed to have.

Despite being positive that this death-eater would not see the Slytherin, Charlie could not help but rush him through the doors as soon as the bell went off, and together they merged back into the crowds of Muggle shoppers.

He could tell that Draco still did not feel safe, however, as his grey eyes darted around like a caged animals, watching to find the direction in which to expect an attacker.

He was filled with an inexplicable desire to make him feel safe.

"Come on, Draco. There are toilets at the end of this little section. If we get there, we can apparate out of here, okay?"

Draco nodded gratefully, as if Charlie had just handed him a literal lifeline, and they pulled their way across to the grubby toilet sign, that was attached to an even grubbier door.

For once, that didn't matter, and they pushed into the space between the different sets of toilets, grateful that they passed no-one as Draco launched himself at the Gryffindor. He didn't trust himself to try and apparate them anywhere.

Seconds later, they ended up outside a quaint little tea shop that appeared to be just off of the main town, as many people with shopping bags walked past, though there weren't any proper shops on the street; it held several small houses, a couple of pubs on one end, and the little tea-shop on the other.

Charlie held the door open for Draco, who entered the warm room quickly, relaxing as he breathed in the slight scent of tea and the stronger scent of toasted tea-cakes with cinnamon.

An elderly man and woman stood together by the till, the woman wearing a typical white apron and the man standing with a smile, and the little tables had nice matching tablecloths, of the kind that were washed rather than binned at the end of the day.

It was a lovely shop, Draco had to admit, and he felt himself calm an amazing amount as Charlie moved him over to a small table in the corner.

Charlie kindly asked the woman to get them both a pot of tea, and she did so quickly and happily, without any comment on them in general, though as Draco looked around, he realised that several of the other customers gave them a look or two.

"So, who was he, Draco? I'm not utterly ignorant, I know he was a death-eater. You looked like you'd been petrified, if I'm honest." Charlie was blunt, but Draco had been expecting a question or two, and accepted it with a nod.

"His name is Daniel Lestrange. A cousin of Rudolphus. He is what the rest of us call the Dark Lord's 'best friend'. They work together, and he often sends out orders to the others of the Dark Lord's behalf. He is sadistic and dangerous."

Draco's eyes were fixed on the table, even as he spoke with contempt, and Charlie knew that this wasn't the full story.

"Draco, what has he done?"

Draco was shocked into looking up. Anyone else would have just accepted that explanation, no more questions asked. He could not believe that the Gryffindor could read him so well already.

"When my father was on the cusp on coming to Dumbledore for help, Daniel approached him, telling him that there was an assignment for me. Just a 'little one', to prove my worth." Here, he snorted in derision, as if that all of that were utterly false. "There was a man, in the inner circle, who had turned traitor. Normally, he would have simply been tortured and killed, simply and coldly. But he was powerful, and no-one wanted to be the one to catch hold of him. Also, a simply spell could not have been sent to kill him, as there were several items on his person that were needed intact."

Draco lifted his shaky hand to his teacup and took a sip, his eyes closing as he swallowed the hot, comforting drink.

"The task was for me, who he would not suspect as his killer, to sleep with him. If he were undressed, the items would not be affected, obviously, and several of the death-eaters pick one another for company; it's just how they work. Then, I was to kill him as soon as he was asleep."

Charlie sucked in a shocked breath, his own eyes wide as he leant subconsciously across the table towards the Slytherin. "You didn't?!" He gasped, nearly knocking his own tea-cup over in the process. Draco noticed just in time, and moved it out of the way before shaking his head.

"No, I didn't know about this until afterwards. Daniel made a mistake in telling my father. He agreed, as was expected, and told him what time I would be there. Father carried out the task for me, using both a de-aging glamour, as we looked scarily alike, and polyjuice potion; even as powerful as this wizard was, there was no way he would see through both."

Charlie felt a new wave of respect for Lucius Malfoy; not many wizards would do that for their child, regardless of how much they cared about them. There was too much fear in being caught, and most wizards would not have thought of it to begin with.

"How did you find out?" There was absolutely no way that the elder Malfoy would have simply told Draco.

"The Dark Lord was watching the entire thing; as Father knew he would. The next full meeting, clips of it were shown to everyone." At Charlie's look of confusion, he elaborated. "He has this thing, a bit like an upright pensive, that can show everyone without all of us actually entering into a pensive or anything. Thankfully, it didn't look too bad; the man was not stupid enough to try and anger Lucius Malfoy by injuring his only son. I still feel bad though; Father spread his legs for some utter asshole just so I wouldn't have to."

Draco looked down at the table in depression and shame. It was heart-breaking to watch, and Charlie pushed his chair back, and crossed around the other side of the small, round table. He knelt next to Draco's chair, then wrapped his arms around him tightly, comforting the younger male.

They stayed there for only a couple of minutes, until they drew the attention of too many people to be comfortable. Then, Charlie moved back, and downed the rest of his tea.

Draco did likewise, trying to savour the warm taste without wasting time, and the Gryffindor left several paper notes on the table; strange Muggle money. In the shopping centre, he had used a plastic rectangle to pay, which had confused Draco, but the Slytherin recognised the notes from his trips to the market with Severus.

They both smiled at the elderly couple, then left the shop, making sure that they didn't slam the door behind them.  
Chapter Five- Week Three, part 1

For the third week, it was traditional for the man to bestow his first gift upon his betrothed, as well as for him to pick a place that was important to him. Though this normally meant that the stage was only a little way through the process, and was always between a man and a woman, Charlie decided to go through with it.

He didn't tell the Slytherin of his traditional plan, and instead allowed the blond to pick the place in which they were to meet, which was, surprisingly, a spot by the lake at Hogwarts, a specific stretch of land that was partway out into the lake, and could only be reached through the dungeons. Even most of the Slytherin's did not know it was there, and it was the spot that Draco had retreated to when he needed space to think, his own little haven throughout his years at Hogwarts.

Unbeknownst to Charlie, Draco had also remembered the tradition, and a small pathetic part of him had decided towards finding the redhead a gift, purely because he wanted to prove that he wasn't to be classed as a housewife, simply because he was the one giving up his name.

This was only a small part of him, however, as a larger portion wanted to impress the man that simply to be genuinely giving this a shot. Draco knew that he wouldn't have made any non-selfish decision had the Gryffindor not made one first, and he figured that it was the equal stubbornness in both of his parents that had halted any possible attempts at a compromise. He didn't want to end up like them.

He didn't think that him and Charlie would end up like Molly and Arthur Weasley, either, but he knew which side of the scales it would be nicer to rest on.

The gift was supposed to be a token that showed a sign of an everlasting marriage; something important or permanent. Draco had found only one thing among his heirlooms that he thought was appropriate.

He did not know that Charlie was going more than a little overboard, and a little less traditional in his symbol of their union.

When Draco got there, the little spot was, thankfully, empty. He'd originally thought he had to send a photograph of the spot to Charlie, so that he would know how to get there, but eventually decided that it would ruin the impact, and instead had the Headmasters permission for usage of Severus's floo, so that he could walk down with him without any problems.

He wanted to set everything out perfectly, as well as cast wards to prevent anyone stumbling across the meeting, before the Gryffindor arrived.

The little area held several little wooden toadstool seats, as well as a small round table, and Draco quickly got to work, lifting the stools to sit either side of the table, which he had lightened before lifting to the centre of the space, where it was shaded by a tree, and had the best view of the lake. He couldn't levitate any of these objects, as they were charmed against it, and he hadn't wanted to ruin the setting by dragging them all through the woodland floor. Tracks in the mud would only have ruined the overall look of the place.

When he was satisfied with this, Draco called for a house elf (who probably would have done the entire thing far quicker, and asked for scones and tea to be prepared for two, then set out properly on the table. The house elf nodded eagerly, smiling when Draco actually spoke politely to the creature. This was something he wanted to try, only because there was no-one to witness his small conversation with the elf.

It turned out that they worked quicker when he asked nicely. The tea was done really quickly, and the small servant offered to do the charms for Draco, when she noticed that he was having a slight difficulty with disguising the area.

He let her, something that made the elf very, very happy, and actually amused Draco a little. He felt far more light-hearted, and decided that elves weren't so bad after all.

Said elf had even popped back with a plate of Draco's favourite cookies, which she shyly suggested he added to his tea. Being nice to the elves seemed to have amazing benefits.

With warming charms cast to keep the tea hot, Draco left the area, running back through the passage to the dungeons to collect Charlie.

He briefly wondered what Severus would think of this, their using his rooms when he wasn't there to give permission, but quickly decided that given the situation, Uncle Sev would probably have encouraged it. Just in case one of the few students still loitering, having not gone home for the holidays, decided to wag their tongue in front of the wrong person.

He had no need to give a password; Severus seemed to have decided against keeping his rooms as usual whilst on the run. He had shrunk everything of monetary or knowledgeable value, and taken it with him, before removed every single security measure on the place. It was like he really, really wanted everyone to know he had left, rather than being taken by the Dark Lord.

The floo was off-colour, even as Draco walked in, and he quickly came to the conclusion that Charlie had decided that it would be far more respectful to fire-call, and then wait until Draco brought him through, rather than just rushing straight in. Safer, too.

He didn't know how long the Gryffindor had been waiting, and did not want to seem rude, so Draco let him through immediately, stepping to the side so that the tall man wouldn't walk straight into him. It seemed like the sort of thing that would happen, really.

Charlie stepped through with amazing grace, though even that did not stop the small amount of soot that covered his hair and shoulders. Before he could do anything, Draco stepped forward and brushed the soot off of one shoulder automatically, and oddly, Charlie didn't find it offensive. It was just the perfectionistic, nature of the boy. He seemed to hate to see something dirty, and Charlie would have bet his entire Gringotts vault that it was a trait that had been bred into him.

The Slytherin gave an exasperated sigh, then cast a cleaning charm over Charlie's hair, and his other shoulder, making sure he was spotless before nodding with satisfaction.

"Much better. I trust you are well?" He enquired softly, his grey eyes fixed upwards on the Gryffindor.

"I'm fine, thank you, Draco. Are you okay?"

Draco nodded, then took Charlie's hand. "Come on, I want to show you something."

Charlie raised one eyebrow, almost mocking one Draco's most common expressions, then grinned cheekily.

"Well, I didn't really want to spend the entire time in Snape's office."

Draco chuckled softly, then pulled on the redhead's hand, leading them both towards the door. He made sure that it was shut properly behind them, then lead Charlie down the main corridor through the dungeons, down to the little alcove room that had thick curtains to conceal windows that were actually raised doors- the entrance out to Draco's little hideout.

"Close your eyes, Charlie." He ordered, and only got a laugh in response.

"Sorry, Draco. I just remembered how you jumped. You know, when I covered your eyes in Honeydukes."

"That wasn't funny, Charlie, that was dangerous." He said sternly, though his eyes sparkled with his own amusement, belaying his tone from having any real effect.

"Hey, you're just jumpy." Then he remembered the man from the shopping centre, and shuddered harshly. "But with good reason, I'll admit."

Draco nodded. "Close your eyes, please."

This time Charlie did as he was told, though just in case he felt tempted to peak, Draco turned him around in a half circle, so that he faced the entrance to the alcove instead.

"Stay there." He murmured, before ducking around one of the curtains to open the door. It swung open, letting in a light breeze, and Draco silently thanked Merlin that it wasn't raining. That would have ruined the whole thing.

The door fully open, he pushed the curtains back, the walked back to Charlie, placed one hand over the man's eyes before he used the other to manoeuvre him back around.

"Walk forward." He instructed, his voice slightly muffled from where his mouth rested at the bottom of the Gryffindor's shoulder blade. Charlie did so easily, though his steps were small, as if he were worried that he would trip over something.

Draco stopped him again just short of the window- a hair's breadth away from the step that would have smashed Charlie's shins into the wall, then rose up onto his tip-toes, making his mouth a close to Charlie's ear as he could get it.

"You're going to have to raise your foot pretty high, now. Just over half a foot." He noted that Charlie shivered lightly, and grinned to himself; it hadn't been the aim, but he was happy that he had some effect on his husband-to-be.

They clambered through the window awkwardly, but with no injuries, and then down the little path that lead to the little circle of land out in the lake. He made sure to kick any rocks out of their path, and to steer Charlie around anything that might trip him over, and they found their way to the little place without any accidents.

Draco stopped Charlie once more, then lifted his hand from his eyes, allowing the man to look around, only to find that the Gryffindor still hadn't opened his eyes.

"Okay, you can look now."

Draco was ecstatic at the excited smile that graced those handsome features as Charlie glanced around the little clearing, taking in the seats and table.

"It's like Alice and Wonderland." He breathed out, looking around in wonder.

"What's Alice and Wonderland?" Draco asked, curious.

"Oh, it's a Muggle book. This girl falls down a rabbit hole and ends up in a strange place, with talking animals, and the evil queen of hearts with her playing card followers. It's really rather strange, but it's a good book."

Draco smiled, a genuine one. "I'd like to read that."

The Gryffindor's grin broadened, and he nodded his head at the blond.

"You can. I've got a copy; I'll give it to you when you arrive at the Burrow."

Draco nodded, feeling slightly constricted by the unintentional reminder. He didn't like knowing that the three weeks had flown by, and this time next week, he would be married. It seemed too soon; he was only just getting into the whole dating thing, and when he finally started liking the whole thing, he was being forced into marriage.

On his own timescale, this would have been fine. It was fine. Draco told himself that several times, then faced Charlie, reminding himself that he needed to reply.

"I'd like that."  
Chapter six- Week Three, part two.

"I'd Like that."

They sat, and it suddenly appeared too formal, too rigid, as they sat, both with impeccable posture, the only motion being Draco pouring the tea was a smooth, practices motion. The china tea-pot was large, and decorated traditionally, with abstract shapes making bumpy lines over the top. It was rather heavy, even when empty, and one had to be surprisingly strong to pour tea from it with any level of control.

He placed the tea-pot in the very centre of the small table, then added milk and sugar to Charlie's before adding it to his own. The Gryffindor simply watched him, neither knowing what to say. They distracted themselves by eating the sugary treats, a small smile gracing Charlie's lips as he noticed the blonde's sweet tooth taking hold once more.

He half-reckoned that their relationship would work out fine, so long as the Weasley household held a steady stream of cookies and sweets. The scones lay there, a little ignored compared to the cookies, which made Charlie's smile grow wider. He knew that had Draco actually been in a formal meeting, he would have at least eaten a scone first, if he had ever moved onto the cookies at all. It probably wasn't proper to hold a handful of sweets, rather than politely slicing and eating the savoury food.

It meant that Draco was relaxed around him, even with the uncomfortable silence, and Charlie liked that. He finished his tea, and then waited until Draco had finished his third cookie, before gently laying his right hand upon Draco's left, making the Slytherin glance up at him properly.

"I have something to show you, Draco." He was nervous now. His little…gift had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time, but with the younger man sat opposite, he couldn't help but wonder if he had made the right choice. He should have picked something more traditional, more real, something that he could literally hand to the blond.

"Okay." Draco turned his hand over, so that their palms met, though he didn't make any move to entwine their fingers. Charlie did so, but very briefly, before he moved his hand away entirely, moving to the collar of his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Draco, but I couldn't think of anything traditional to give you, so I sort of came up with something of my own."

The blond nodded, curious rather than suspicious, and watched as the older man began to unbutton his shirt swiftly, his hair obscuring his face, as though the Gryffindor was actually embarrassed. He undid the top half, then pushed the fabric aside on the left side of his chest.

Draco gasped. And not just because the red-head was rather muscled, and his naked chest was an attractive thing to look at.

Over his heart, there was a dragon. A beautiful Swedish short-snout, with that lovely silver-blue coloured skin that caused many people to kill the creature, just to create gloves and shields. The blue flame that it was so famous for wasn't in the picture, as the dragon was lying down, though wisps of smoke spread out from his snout, and black writing fit neatly in the gaps of it.

Draco. 

Charlie had gotten a tattoo, which any future lover would most definitely see; he was expecting this whole arrangement to last. Which, obviously, was what he had said all along. But this was the proof.

Draco felt like crying, and despite mentally lecturing himself on the correct conduct of a Malfoy, could not help the tears that filled his grey, usually cold, eyes.

He blinked, trying to clear them, and saw Charlie's concerned expression. He smiled reassuringly, wiping at his eyes.

"I've officially cried more in these last few weeks than I did in the last ten years." He murmured, staring at the picture, with the beautiful dragon, resting comfortably. "You think I'd be a Swedish snort-snout?" He asked lightly.

"Yep. Dangerous, pale, pretty. Agile, and valuable. Quite a catch. Isn't that how you would describe yourself?" A smile teased his lips, but Draco wasn't offended. He knew that Charlie wasn't mocking him, not really. He smiled back.

"I guess so. That is, I don't think I'd be a horntail or anything. That's probably the closest you'll get." He was hesitant, and Charlie frowned.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Draco broke out into a broad, entirely undignified grin. Charlie was going to find out at some point, anyway.

"The Swedish short-snout is my animagus form."

Charlie's eyes widened, and he almost fell off of his toadstool. "No way! You have a dragon animagus form?! Hardly anyone does!"

"I know that. I would show you, but I would probably crush this entire area."

"You have to show me. At some point. Not now, but you have to." His eyes had lit up with excitement, and Draco suddenly remembered that Charlie absolutely adored dragons. He wasn't sure why it had slipped his mind seconds before; everyone knew that about this particular Weasley.

"I will." He nodded, then reached into his pocket.

"I fear I actually picked something a little too traditional, comparatively." His eyes were still locked on the tattoo, but he dragged them up to the Gryffindor's face, then pushed a square, purple box across the table.

It was very, very recognisable in colour to pure-blooded families, and Charlie realised immediately.

"Is that-?"

Draco nodded. "Bear in mind, that when I was born, my parents did not think that I would turn out gay."

Charlie chuckled, then carefully ran his finger underneath the ridge of the lid, caused the top to spring open, revealing, Draco's birth necklace.

When a magical child is born, they always emit a small amount of magic at the time of birth, which when captured in glass, would create a unique birthstone, which was traditionally placed on a gold elven-made chain, to be given to their life partner.

As Draco was male, the glass had been pink- to bets suit most options for a bride. Draco knew it had been pink, his mother had told him so, but Charlie looked at it in confusion.

"I don't know why you worried. I think your magic knew you pretty well." Charlie carefully picked up the chain, showing Draco the small cylinder that hung from the end.

The glass was pink, but his magic was blue, and they combined neatly, giving a deep purple colour to the overall shape. It didn't look too feminine, and Draco could picture it suiting Charlie well.

"Wow." He muttered.

"You haven't seen this before?"

Draco shook his head. "No. I had only been told that the glass had been pink. I thought it would look different to that."

Charlie grinned. "It's absolutely beautiful." He swung the chain over his neck, letting the crystal of magic hit the base of his neck.

"I'm glad you like it."

Charlie walked around the table and knelt in the slightly soggy grass, uncaring of the stains that would mar his clothing. He softly placed one hand on the Slytherin's cheek, his thumb brushing across the pale skin.

For some reason, the romantic part of his brain did not want their first kiss to be witnessed by loads of people who thought they were pretending. And it seemed like the perfect time to rectify it.

He leaned forward, quite quickly, so that he wouldn't back out, but still had time for his adrenaline infused brain to note the shocked widening of the blonde's grey eyes as he approached. He touched his lips to the Slytherin's softly, barely pressing against the plump pink flesh, before pulling back a little, then moving in again.

This time, he pressed harder, but only a little, and waited for an answering movement from the younger man, who eventually leaned forward shyly, his hand resting on the Gryffindor's neck, underneath his thick curtain of hair.

Tentatively, Charlie's tongue pressed against Draco's bottom lip, swiping a line across it before darting back into his own mouth.

Just a taste, but he didn't want to push it. It felt odd, like they were going through the motions.

Draco's lips were soft, and he was technically practiced; in fact his little hint of hesitation added a rather sweet edge to the kiss- yet again, Charlie was overcome with the urge to wrap his arms around him, to protect him.

Instead, he moved away, drawing back to look at Draco, who appeared troubled.

"That felt odd." The Slytherin blurted out, before he blushed lightly, looking away.

"I know what you mean. In a good way, or a bad way?"

"I'm not sure. You a good kisser, don't get me wrong, but I wasn't sure how I was supposed to feel about it, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do." Charlie kissed Draco's forehead, making the blonde smile.

"I like it when you do that, though."

"Good." He kissed his cheek this time, smiling when Draco did the same thing back. "We'll be okay. I promise."

END ACT 1  
Chapter seven- The Burrow

Draco wasn't stupid in his packing for the Burrow- he knew that ninety per cent of what he owned would be entirely unsuitable for his new lifestyle, as a married man in the household of the Weasley's. And a large portion of his things were items that he did not trust to have anywhere near the ridiculously infamous Weasley twins.

His beautiful multi-coloured lamp was one such item, decorated carefully with 'witches-balls' that he had made with Severus, it reflected light in the different colours of each piece of glass. Due to the colour and sparkle, the Slytherin could easily see it being the centre-piece for a firework's display.

He definitely did not want that to happen; he would hardly ever admit it, but the item held a large amount of sentimental value. This, along with several other mementos from his holidays and visits with the potions-master, was left in a magically-protected Muggle safe, which was kept in the back of Severus' wardrobe.

Draco couldn't quite remember when he'd learnt about the safe, he could not recall the conversation that had given him the knowledge of it; he just knew it was there, and he knew how to open it.

A lot of things were valuable, but things he was not really attached to- other than for the monetary value- and those that could be shrunk he placed in a trunk, which he then shrunk until it could fit easily in his pocket. He reckoned that he wouldn't have to enlarge the box for some time, and was satisfied with simply tucking it into the plush secret pocket of his bag, where it settled easily against the cushioning.

All of his main clothes were neatly folded into the bag using a very good packing charm that Pansy had taught him, which made everything take up the least amount of space possible, and did not interfere with the anti-wrinkle charms that all of his clothes came with.

Much was, thankfully, left at Malfoy manor, where it was to remain until he could either retrieve it, or the place was destroyed, whichever came first.

He seemed to finish packing entirely too quickly, but he knew that taking forever simply to prolong the wait would not make all that much of a real impact for him- after all, the Burrow was to become his home, and held a large portion of the family he would be joining.

Checking his shaving potion and toothbrush three times wasn't really going to chance that.

There was literally no sense in waiting, and so Draco picked up his rucksack, then levitated the larger bad behind him, so that he did not have to drag it as he trudged up to Dumbledore's office. The Slytherin had been informed earlier of the headmaster's sudden preference for chocolate mice, which meant that he had no trouble with the gargoyle, who could do nothing but glare mistrustfully as Draco walked through to use the floo.

Albus smiled at the young man, and Fawkes trilled a happy greeting, both of which prompting a half-smile from the blond, who also nodded awkwardly at them as he edged towards the fireplace.

"Draco, I find that if you set your luggage in before you step forward, you do not end up tumbling through the floo with your bags on top of you." Dumbledore accompanied this advice with the slightly disturbing sound of sucking at a lemon drop, which made Draco suppress a shudder.

It was sound advice though. The boy picked up a pinch of the powder from the urn, then used his wand to direct the bag, which settled easily into the flames.

"Thank you, headmaster."

"That's quite alright, Mr Malfoy. I will see both yourself and Mr Weasley in three days."

Feeling a little like one of those bobble-head toys, Draco nodded again, then stepped into the floo behind his bag.

"The Burrow!"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He tried –and failed- to step out with grace, almost walking into the bag which had been dropped out before him. He heard a snigger, and looked up to familiar eyes, which smiled warmly at him as Charlie Weasley tried not to look too amused.

"Nearly falling at my feet there, Draco."

"Ha ha, Charlie. That's your greeting? Shouldn't it have been something along the lines of 'I missed you, darling'?"

"Aww, you're hopelessly romantic. I knew it."

Charlie walked forward, and wrapped both arms around Draco's waist, squeezing softly. The taller man burrowed his face into soft blond hair, cuddling as close as possible.

Charlie felt Draco hold him in response, and smiled to himself, lowering his lips to the younger man's ear.

"I missed you. Is that better?"

"Much." Draco twisted his head out from under Charlie's, then stood on tip-toe, covering Charlie's lips with his own.

It was still awkward, because he had consciously thought that it was the proper way to greet him, now that their first kiss had already passed. It was the fact that he thought it through that bothered him, but the care that appeared behind the smile in Charlie's eyes made it easily fade away.

It no longer jabbed at him; Draco easily forgot his own unease, successfully distracted by that caring warmth that the red-head directed at him.

"It's as if they don't even know we're here!" A familiar voice broke through, and Draco stepped back a little to glance around the room.

It wasn't all that the small, but rather looked it, filled as it was with red-haired Weasleys. It looked cosy though not stylish or expensive, and held many a personal item that seemed to just be lying around. People's books littered the small table around which sat many chairs, and several coats were hooked over the banister of the staircase.

The carpet, however, was completely clean, and there wasn't a single stain upon any of the furniture. Molly Weasley clearly kept the place very, very clean, despite all of her children's mess.

The woman stood in a doorway which Draco suspected lead to the kitchen, and was smiling brightly at both her son and Draco himself, her hands clasped together around her bunched up apron.

Ron- who had alerted Draco to the presence of the others- stood with the two bodies that made up the human menace, and a stern looking Weasley that Draco knew from his father to be Percy; aka, the one who meddled in the ministry.

Arthur Weasley was nowhere to be seen, which Draco found to be rather odd, but he supposed that the man was working.

"It's good to see you, Draco."

Molly Weasley left her spot to approach them, and Draco stood awkwardly, not sure whether he was supposed to shake her hand as he did business partners, or kiss her knuckles as he had been taught to do when greeting a lady; this situation confused him greatly.

He was utterly in shock when the woman took him into a warm, tight hug, a very motherly action that he couldn't see himself ever getting used to. It was as if Molly had decided that she would behave as if he were one of her own children, right down to the tight Weasley hugs.

He responded awkwardly, and gasped for breath when she eventually let him go, feeling physically crushed and mentally bewildered.

The slightly plump woman then turned to the side, glaring at her identical pair of children, willing one of them to at least feign politeness.

"Y'alright, Malfoy?" One of them offered by way of greeting, swaying forward slightly as a Cheshire-cat-worthy smile of mischief took over his rather long features.

"Of course he's not alright, Fred, he has to marry Charlie! Poor sod!" The other stood next to his twin, this one carrying a grin that was almost as unnerving as the first.

"Or is it the other way around?" The first spoke once more, then both Weasley's looked in between the couple standing by the fireplace, their eyes flickering slightly to the left –at Draco- then to the right, and back again.

"We feel sorry for both of you!" They spoke simultaneously, shuddering in mock-horror before shrugging and walking through the door to the kitchen.

"Ignore them, dear." Molly said apologetically, as if it were a given fact that he should. Draco hadn't found it all that insulting, and easily smiled his 'reassurance-smile' at Molly.

In fact, from Fred and George, their little speech had been rather complementary.

Either that or they secretly hated Charlie, and really did feel sorry for Draco, which the Slytherin doubted. It seemed to be a glitch in the Weasley family genetics; go so far away from hating one another that they even picked up strays.

Unlike Draco's family. He loved his father, though he knew that it was often over-shadowed by careful respect, and he was rather fond of his mother, because she did try to look after him, even if she did fail most of the time.

He hated her for cheating on his father, but still loved her for her efforts. The rest of his family though, even last one of them he loathed. They were either insane, tried to grab the Malfoy fortune, treated Draco as if he were a toddler, or were downright rude.

Of course, he loved Severus as much as he did his father, which probably had something to do with the fact that the man wasn't actually related to him, which therefore meant that he had always looked after him voluntarily.

The Weasley's were very accepting. And too trusting. But it was easy to get used to, as everything had a sense of family normality. It felt ordinary as Molly all but pushed Draco into the kitchen for lunch, handing out bowls of homemade soup and thick chunks of bread.

No-one shunned Draco from the conversation over the table, but he refrained from commenting most of the time, content to watch the strange banter as people made comments on each other, as Percy Weasley tried to discuss matters to do with an article in the paper, and as Mrs Weasley had to stop him from 'announcing death over perfectly good food'.

It was wild, and loud, and very overwhelming. But it was so much more relaxed than any Malfoy meal.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the evening, he was packed off to Charlie's room, which held two small beds, with a gap of about a foot between them. It felt odd, both of them getting ready for bed, then settling in separately, knowing that in three days' time, it would be transfigured into the one double.

He couldn't close his eyes to sleep, and instead watched Charlie move a few items around from a shelf onto the floor, then watched him dump clothes into a laundry basket by the door, casually chucking them from where he sat on his bed.

The older man had a very good aim, and had Draco been wearing clothes of lower quality, he would have thrown them, just to try and beat Charlie.

At it were, he cast cleaning charms, then folded them neatly, placing them on the end of his bed.

The light flicked off suddenly, and Draco noted that Charlie must have extinguished the lamp. It was pitch black without it, and Draco sunk down in the unfamiliar bed, rolling over to try and get comfortable.

It mattress was surprisingly soft, but he wasn't used to it, and Draco lay there in silence, waiting to fall asleep.

"Good night, Draco." It was a few moments later when Charlie's soft voice reached out to him, and Draco found it oddly comforting.

"Good night, Charlie." He heard himself reply.

Draco had no trouble sleeping after that.  
Chapter eight- Bonding

Charlie had thought that he would be incredibly nervous at the prospect of signing his life over to another, but he actually felt a little numb as he pulled on the forest green robe that had arrived that morning, courtesy of a 'friend'. The card had been neatly written in traditional script, the robes themselves elegant garments comprised of rich, flowing materials.

Apparently, Lucius Malfoy had wanted both Draco and Draco's husband-to-be to be dressed appropriately. Charlie was actually strangely touched by the gesture; he would only be getting married the once, and was thankful that he could at least stick to the traditional proceedings.

The house was an utter tip as Molly tried in vain to keep Charlie and Draco apart until they both reached the room of requirement, going so far as to shove Draco in the twins room so that she could sort him, leaving Arthur downstairs with Charlie.

No, this wasn't wizarding tradition, not at all, but the red-head knew that any nerves would appear should he see the blond beforehand.

"Where were you, Dad?" Charlie spoke up suddenly, after recalling the moment when Draco had arrived at the Burrow.

"What? When?" Arthur caught his son's eye in the mirror, and frowned at him in confusion.

"When Draco got here. You weren't at work; you didn't floo."

Arthur chuckled darkly, an unusual sound for the head of the Weasley family.

"I was at Hogwarts."

Charlie raised one eyebrow questioningly, and Arthur grinned before continuing.

"Apparently, a Miss Parkinson was seeking safety much like our Draco."

Charlie froze, one hand stuck to the fiddly little button at the top of his robe.

Bill was already married, as was Percy. Ginny was very, very heterosexual. Which left the twins and Ron.

Fred was dating Angelina, and George was conducting 'meetings' with Katie. (It appeared that both of them held a more than slight fear of commitment, though as far as Charlie knew, they had started seeing each other a good seven months ago.) They could have, of course, been asked to marry regardless, but that would only happen if there wasn't a single other option.

Ron.

Charlie burst out laughing, a loud, uncontrolled noise that held absolutely no sympathy for his youngest brother.

"Where is Ron?"

"He's staying at Hogwarts for the time being." Arthur sighed. "To try and come to terms with it, in a more peaceful environment."

"What's he so annoyed about? He had to have agreed to it." It was one of the clauses within the arrangement of the order.

It was a pretty neat clause too, as Albus knew that hardly any of them would refuse the chance to save someone who asked for help. It did mean one more person on their side, and one less on the opposing side, after all.

"He did. But, apparently, Ron did not think it through. He is upset, because he had forgotten –somehow- about the consummation. He thought he could marry Miss Parkinson, and then go back to Hermione."

Charlie turned around, completely aghast. Who, in their right mind, would consider that a moral thing to do?!

His expression clearly conveyed every last thing that Charlie had been thinking, for his Dad nodded seriously.

"It isn't helping that Miss Granger went into hiding, along with several of our spies. I don't think they were dating when she left, but I feel that Ron probably needed some clarification of their relationship. If he'd been definitely sure that they had parted as friends, he wouldn't have had this problem. I think he's mostly confused."

"How unusual. Christ, when the hell will he grow up? What's his problem? I only seen Pansy a few times- near Draco- when I was visiting Hogwarts with the dragon. I can't judge her character, but she is pretty." Charlie sighed. "And probably in low spirits, now that she's worked out how childish Ron is."

"Ooh, get you. Merlin, Charlie, you're even starting to sound like him!" George stood in the doorway, his lip nearly split, he was grinning that widely.

Two hours later found Charlie in the room of requirement, picking at the side of his –admittedly very soft- robe as he anxiously waited for Draco. Given that they were in the same residence, the time difference should not have been that large, but Draco was meticulous with his appearance, and Charlie had been stood at the front of the room for a full half an hour, and almost everyone else had arrived.

He had figured out who Severus and Lucius had arrived as five minutes ago; Harry Potter would never cross his legs over at the knees, nor hold his arm at a funny angle, as if itching to hold a staff, and Hermione had always been uptight, but merlin, the poor girl's posture was unnatural.

Though not an advertised piece of knowledge, it was known that Hermione and Harry had gone with Lucius and Severus, though Godric only knew where they were actually staying.

Fred and George stood behind him, as witnesses, and 'Harry' and 'Hermione' were several steps to the side of where Draco was to be. It had been decided that they could be official witnesses, so long as they used their actual signatures; no-one would notice until it had been filed at the ministry, which Dumbledore would not do until the very end of the wedding, when both men would have already left, back to wherever they were staying with Harry and Hermione.

The doors banged open in a crisp, harsh noise that demanded attention, and all gathered turned to see as Draco Malfoy began to confidently stride down the aisle, Malfoy pride keeping his chin in the air, though not quite hiding his emotions under mask.

Charlie thought he looked beautiful, dressed in a pale, almost faded shade of gold that blended with his own pale colouring, giving the blond a very ethereal look. The Gryffindor stared, fascinated, as the Slytherin moved towards him, noting the warmth in Draco's eyes, shining through despite the hints of fear and –dare he note it- shyness.

He really was the sweetest boy on the planet, Charlie thought. He did not blink at all as Draco moved, and before he knew it, his eyes closed and reopened, revealing the sight of his betrothed standing beside him. The open look in Draco's eyes did not leave, even under Charlie's obvious scrutiny, and he supressed the urge to fold the younger man into his arms, to hold him tightly.

He would just have to wait until the end of their vows.

Albus coughed lightly, bringing everyone's attention to rest on him, the elderly wizard dressed in bright pink robes. He smiled brightly, his eyes twinkling at the two men before him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, today we are here to witness the joining of Charles Weasley and Draco Malfoy."

Out of the corner of his eye he watched Draco try (unsuccessfully) to suppress an eye-roll at the man's very Muggle attempt at joining them. The blond did not seem all too irritated by it, and Charlie's own features took on an amused grin, which turned into silent giggles as 'Harry's' own eyes rolled in an identical gesture as Draco's.

"Ahem. Well, our couple have decided upon their own vows, so Draco, as the younger, if you could start?"

Charlie turned sideways so that he was facing Draco, his eyes drinking in the sight of the nervous young man, who lips turned up into the barest hint of a smile as his grey eyes met Charlie's.

The Slytherin took a deep breath, exhaled softly, then began to recite the vows. They had found a book on wedding vows, one that Bill and Fleur had used for their own, and had taken specific lines from each until they had something that suited them.

It was clever, too, and almost Slytherin in its sneakiness. They had picked something that was not lying; the lines carefully did not claim that they had been in love before their betrothal, merely promising that they would do so whilst married.

They had both liked the vows, which was a bonus.

"Today I will marry my friend,  
the one I will live with, dream with and love.  
I take you to be my husband.  
From this day forward I will cherish you,  
I will look with joy down the path of our tomorrow's,  
knowing we will walk it together side by side, hand in hand and  
heart to heart."

Draco spoke clearly, enunciating perfectly, which everybody but Charlie Severus and Lucius just took for calm confidence and acceptance.

Those three realised that he had slipped into his practiced Malfoy speaking voice, an automatic way to hide his nerves and –strangely enough- his emotion. The blond looked happy, his eyes bright and concentrated purely on Charlie, the same as anyone's would be at their own wedding.

Charlie swallowed thickly, taking both of Draco's hands in his own, as the ritual required.

"Today I will marry my friend,  
the one I will live with, dream with and love.  
I take you to be my husband.  
From this day forward I will cherish you,  
I will look with joy down the path of our tomorrow's,  
knowing we will walk it together side by side, hand in hand and  
heart to heart."

On the word love, both men's eyes clouded slightly with tears, which both successfully staved off, and as Charlie's voice faded from the room, Albus Dumbledore waved his wand in a figure of eight, which split into two threads of gold magic to wrap around their joined hands.

They both glowed gold, as they would until they kissed, and next Dumbledore held out the rings, (which had been picked by Charlie and Draco and paid for by Lucius), which they placed upon the others hand at exactly the same time.

The band was cool against Charlie's skin, but reacted with the magic and warmed around his finger, leaving tingles of magic that ran all the way up his arm.

"I now pronounce you Mr Charles Weasley and Mr Draco Weasley."

Charlie pretended not to see Draco's slight wince at the name; he knew Draco would have done it no matter who he married- he simply did not want to give up his own family name, and that was something that Charlie could understand.

"You may now kiss your husband."

Charlie bent his head, causing several strands of his hair to escape its formerly neat position to fall over his eyes, and Draco's own appeared to lengthen as he tilted his head back, causing his soft blond hair to fall down his back from where it had rested on his shoulders.

Their lips met, soft and warm, like every kiss before, and Charlie warmly noted that Draco reached up to place his arms around the Gryffindor's neck, holding him to him. Charlie responded in kind, wrapping his own arms about the man's slender waist, and parting his lips to deepen the kiss.

Draco allowed them to tangle their tongues together for only a moment, before he pulled back slightly, which made Charlie direct a concerned glance at him.

Draco kissed his cheek in reassurance, which caused several of the guests to comment on how sweet he was, before pulling away entirely, and joining their hands together instead as they turned to face their audience.

People immediately swarmed forward, most of them with flame red hair, all rushing towards them in a way that made Draco feel far more claustrophobic than he ever had before.

"Congratulations, son." Lucius's soft tone escaped from Potter's mouth, and Draco relaxed, before smiling at his father and Godfather, who smiled in response, odd expressions for the two Gryffindor's that they were pretending to be.

"Yes, Congratulations, Dragon. Hermione's body hugged Draco tightly, before Severus whispered in his ear. "Once we've signed the form, Draco, me and Lucius will be off, okay."

Draco nodded slightly sadly, before hugging Lucius as well, who hugged him back, holding on for a second before the group headed to the corner of the room, where the forms needed to be signed.

Charlie noted the exchange happily; he did not think that Draco would have coped so easily, had he not had his family with him.  
Chapter Nine- Resolutions

Draco couldn't sleep. At all. Everything tumbled through his mind, a tornado of the day's events and his own mixed feelings. Every time he thought he had sorted everything into neat piles, and all neat piles were filed away, all those little things raced back through his mind again, tormenting him.

Charlie sleep beside him, his snore permeating every single little space devoid of thought. That snore irritated Draco. So, so much. A deep but fairly quiet sound, the signal of Charlie dreaming, oblivious.

Not that Charlie would have helped, even if he had been awake. Draco knew the redhead would offer sweet words, sleepy murmurs to go to sleep. Draco didn't particularly want to talk to Charlie. If he had learnt anything that night, it was that Charlie Weasley was a spectacular liar.

\- Earlier that Night-

Draco stood, a little nervously, by the side of their bed. As it would remain forever, unless Charlie ever decided to divorce him. Which didn't seem entirely likely, when the redhead was stood opposite him, eyes smouldering.

Footsteps plodded lightly around the room, until Charlie stood by Draco's side, his hand lightly brushing his Slytherin husbands. Draco only had to turn slightly towards the Gryffindor, and then lips were on his, teasingly light, but deepening with each and every touch.

Draco lent into him, moulding his shorter frame to Charlie's body, his hands reaching to hold the older man's shoulders. They stood there for minutes, just kissing, the movements so slow that Draco was surprised to realise that Charlie's hands had travelled down until one held his hip, and the other fit to the curve of his arse.

He whimpered lightly as Charlie's hand swept around, mapping out the shape of his curved buttocks, palming firmly to push Draco flush against him.

Their groins finally gained contact, and Draco gasped loudly, prompting a light chuckle from the Gryffindor.

"Alight there love?" He murmured, voice deep with lust. Draco turned slightly pink, but nodded nonetheless.

"Hmmm." Draco hummed his agreement, rolling his hips forwards in an attempt to entice a reaction from Charlie, who did, indeed, intake a breath more than a little sharply.

This filled the blond with confidence, and his moved again, rolling his hips slowly as deliberately, rubbing his hard length against Charlie's, before moving his lower half away entirely, leaving just his arms holding onto his husband.

A second later, he was lightly tossed onto the soft mattress, bouncing gently as he let out an indignant little shriek.

"Aww, look at you, sprawled across my bed." Charlie commented idly, before flopping forward to lie beside Draco.

Draco glared half-heartedly. He inched closer to the redhead, who sloppily covered the younger man's face with kisses as soon as he was close enough.

Draco tilted his head up to catch a kiss that had been intended for the tip of his nose, licking Charlie's lip before reaching to hold the older man's head in place.

Draco was still nervous. And nerves made him jumpy and impatient. He reached a hand forward, tugging loosely at Charlie's formal robes. His partner quickly got the hint, pulling the fabric over his head and dumping it in an untidy pile on the chair next to the bed.

Draco's quickly followed, leaving both in the lightweight, thin fabric trousers that matched their robes. Hands quickly trailed across chests, Draco's reaching to stroke the strange tinted coloured hair on Charlie's chest as the Gryffindor reached forward to run his hands up and down the pale skin, warming the goose-bumps away from Draco. Their mouths met again, the kisses now feverish, and Charlie lightly rolled one pink dusky nipple between his thumb and forefinger, testing the sensitivity.

Draco moaned loudly.

It was something that Blaise had somehow never thought to do. He had pinched, on occasion, as that was what he himself found most stimulating. But Draco was far more sensitive that his dark ex-boyfriend, and the sudden, gentle movement from his Gryffindor partner was surprising.

On the third roll, and second nip to his bottom lip, Draco groaned impatiently.

"Need you. Now."

Charlie pulled back slightly to look down at the blond, searching his eyes. "Answer me honestly, Draco. You look like a deer caught in the headlights. Are you sure you've done this before?"

Draco tilted his head to the side. "I am hardly going to lie, Charlie. We've haven't even been married a day. It wouldn't be a good start would it?" He shook himself lightly. "Yes, I've had sex before. Many times. What's a headlight?"

"Something Muggles put on their cars, I think."

"Oh."He didn't really care about car thing-ys anyway. Draco wrapped one leg around Charlie's, hooking his ankle around to give himself the leverage to drag the larger, stronger man on top of him.

They collided none too subtlety, groins connecting roughly causing both men to moan loudly. It was only Charlie's quick reflexes, that allowed him to catch himself on his hands, which stopped Draco's head from being smashed into the Gryffindor's chest.

Charlie moved quickly, rutting harshly against his younger partner until Draco whined loudly enough to get his attention.

"Come on, Charlie!" The Slytherin was well-aware that that particular tone of voice achieved little other than making him appear to be a petulant child, but he couldn't help it. He was goddamned nervous, and he really didn't want to lie there whilst Charlie procrastinated about the actual act!

The redhead frowned knowingly. "I know you're anxious, Draco, I am too. But do you really want to look back on this, and say; 'Hey, our wedding night was an awkward quick fumble'?"

Draco shook his head.

"Good."

Charlie moved, pulling his hips away from the blondes, and shimmied down until his mouth was level with Draco's chest. Here, he started to kiss his way down the pale flesh, laving, and sucking and occasionally biting, mapping his way along his young husband's body.

Draco gasped. Before, he had been under the impression that Charlie wasn't really listening, but now? The shift was pretty damned tangible.

Judging by Draco's gasps, whatever he had been worrying over was quickly floating further and further away from his rather foggy brain. The shorter man finally relaxed properly, sighing softly as the slight stubble on Charlie's jaw rubbed against the fine hair that dusted the lower portion of his stomach.

Charlie sucked there, leaving a purple proof of his mouth and, whilst Draco was moaning and unable to sense anything other than the warm mouth leaving light bites, removed the Slytherin's trousers, unfastening them deftly and sliding them down the slender legs he had spent so much time admiring.

His own quickly followed, after his mouth had reattached itself to the blondes, but once they were gone, they both stopped.

It seemed so much more serious when they were both lying there utterly naked. Their eyes locked, and held for a matter of whole seconds before Draco let out a slightly hysterical giggle.

The noise shocked Charlie back to the present, and he moved forwards, connecting his lips to Draco's throat lightly, tickling the skin. Draco shuddered softly, his shoulders pushing up against the redhead's jaw as his shifted restlessly beneath him.

This made his back arch upwards, his frame undulating, and as he moved, the blonde caused his bare erection to brush against the Gryffindor's. The tension dissolved in a way that magic couldn't ever achieve. They moaned simultaneously, and Draco quickly patted around him with his hand, trying to remember where the lubricant was.

"Damn it, where-" He mewled as Charlie traced one finger up the inside of his thigh "-is it?"

"Where's what?" Charlie asked, his voice husky as he pressed a kiss to the blonde's hipbone, noting how it stood out in his rather thin frame.

"Lub-ri-cant." Draco elongated the word, making each syllable appear completely separate.

Charlie shifted off of him once more, making the younger man want to lock his legs around the Gryffindor to keep him in place. He wasn't gone for long however, as the older man rushed to grab a blue bottle, fumbling with it before settling himself right back between Draco's legs. "Got it."

Draco grinned, his breathing deep as he tried to calm himself a little. "Use it, then."

Charlie smirked back at him. "As you wish."

It took him two attempts to flip the lid open, with Draco trying not to let himself give out that embarrassingly hysterical laugh again.

But open it did, with a popping sound, and the unmistakable scent of lube reached Draco's nose. Though the lube claimed to be unscented, it did still have its own smell, and that filled Draco's nostrils, causing him to spread his legs even wider, bending his knees out in preparation for penetration.

The lube was cool from the bottle, so Charlie rubbed his fingers together in circles, warming the liquid before pressing his thumb to Draco's pucker, lightly pressing the lube against his hole and slowly massaging it in. The skin became slippery quite quickly, and when wet it became pliable and soft, and Charlie felt the tip of his thumb press just slightly inside.

Draco drew in a sharp breath, making a high whistling sound as he shifted his hips towards his husband.

Charlie took the hint, and slowly pressed his index finger into Draco's arse, moving past the ring of muscle until his finger was buried. Then, he moved the digit in a circular motion, taking in the way the walls moved around it.

Draco was tight, but not unduly so; his body moved to accommodate the intrusion, rather than trying to push the finger out, and Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. At least it wouldn't be an overly difficult coupling. After that realisation hit, he added another finger, and moved both together, noting which motions made the blonde moan the most. He curled the fingers upwards several times before finally finding a nub of flesh, and then he pressing against it slowly but firmly, watching Draco's face as the Slytherin groaned loudly.

"In me. Charlie." He panted loudly. "Now."

Charlie brushed Draco's prostate teasingly before removing his fingers entirely, then reached again for the lube that he had left on the bed beside them.

He coated his cock with liberal amounts; he knew he was quite thick. He wasn't huge, in fact his length was a very comfortable average, nothing to brag about, but also not a shameful size. But what people didn't seem to realise, was it was usually the girth that was problematic with partners either inexperienced or who hadn't been taken in a while, not the length.

Draco seemed to have been telling the truth on how often he'd had sex, but Charlie didn't want to cause discomfort where it wasn't necessary.

Once satisfied, he lead his dripping member to Draco's stretched hole, holding the tip against the blonde's arse for a moment, a little warning before he started pushing in. He held Draco's hip lightly, using his fingers to massage against the Slytherin's lower back where any discomfort woulds be the greatest, and moved slowly. Draco pushed back against him, bearing himself down on Charlie's cock in an unconcerned manner, until he felt the older man's balls bounce lightly against his arse cheeks.

They both paused, slowing their breathing. Draco moved first, rolling his hips enticingly, his cock bobbing up against Charlie's stomach as he moved. That was all the encouragement Charlie needed, for a nanosecond after Draco had smeared a droplet of his precum on the Gryffindor's firm stomach, Charlie pulled out about half way, before sliding back in. After that first proper thrust, it became simpler, Charlie thrusting steadily, and as when anyone starting getting absorbed, they both moved together, the thrust becoming both harder and faster as they tried to reach completion.

When Draco came, it was very sudden, as Charlie squeezed his cock at the same time as he hit his prostate. He had been hitting it at random intervals, but that time had been quite hard, and the sensation paired with that on his cock became too much.

Draco clamped down on Charlie, his body trying to keep the other man in place as he came, coating both of their stomachs in come.

Charlie hadn't any warning either, and only managed two thrust into the convulsing channel before following the Slytherin, filling his arse with his seed.

They both stayed completely still while they were drained, until, suddenly, Charlie rolled off of Draco to lie beside him.

He had only meant to pause for breath, before rolling over, but not even five seconds later, the Gryffindor was asleep.

Draco stayed where he was, on his back, covered in sticky fluid both inside and out.

He waited for Charlie to turn around, to kiss him, to hold him. To say something, anything.

Half an hour later, Charlie started to snore.

That snore made Draco angry. The silence had made him feel used and discarded, and the snore showed the lack of anything troubling his husband's mind. Their first night as a married couple and Charlie didn't even care enough to hold him, let alone clean him up, the way Blaise used to do. That had mostly been due to Blaise not wanting to sleep in dirty sheets, but it had always seemed so kind, so very gentle.

-End of scene, back to 'present'-

Yes, he was definitely a fantastic liar. Only a professional deceiver could shag someone whilst giving off the impression of making love, and then show his true colours about a minute later. He thought Charlie didn't care what Draco felt, so long as he could pretend he was acting like the model husband.

So long as Draco didn't impose his issues directly onto the Gryffindor, Draco suspected that Charlie wouldn't even care to notice anything amiss.

That bloody stung.

Feeling the need for air, Draco rolled to the edge of the mattress, not having to bother about the movement jostling the Gryffindor, he was so far away. The Slytherin sat on the end, his bare feet cold on the wooden floor, before standing up, his eyes long since adjusted to the dark in the room. he could see all of his clothes, rumpled and discarded from where his husband had thrown them.

He didn't want to put them back on. Instead, he walked lightly to a cupboard, and pulled out a large black button down shirt, one he had seen Charlie wear before.

He brought the fabric to his nose, and inhaled deeply, noting the faint scent of the Gryffindor that clung to the fabric. He must have worn it many times. Despite everything, Draco still found that scent warm and comforting, and he pulled the shirt on, the garment large enough that he didn't even have to undo any of the buttons, simply tugging the shirt over his head.

He fancied the shirt giving him the hug that Charlie hadn't. It reached down to the lower part of what would classify as mid-thigh, easily covering everything essential. Draco nodded to himself, and crossed his arms to hold his hips, ensuring that the shirt stayed in place, before carefully walking down the multi-layered house to the garden.

On the second set of stairs, there was one creaky one he had noticed before, but for all his efforts to remember which it was, he still stood on it. Ans as he had thought the one before to be the noisy one, he had landed upon it rather heavily, and the noise was loud. Too loud for the silent house.

The blonde stayed where he was whilst he counted to five, and when satisfied that no-one had awoken, carried on down to the back garden. It was quite a nice garden, small enough to feel enclosed whilst having enough space to walk and get some cool, clear air.

On the second turn, he stopped and sat on a large wooden sculpture of a mushroom, tilting his feet perpendicular to the ground. The slight breeze felt good on his still sweaty skin, and though he knew the evidence of the consummation still lay on his stomach and in his arse, he refused to properly acknowledge what he couldn't see.

Two door-mice ran around each other not twenty feet away, and Draco watched them dragging grass and nuts to a small spot comprising of a tile tilted to the ground from a ceramic flowerpot. They seemed to have their own triangular little home. Even two door-mice could look after each other better than him and Charlie. Draco sniffled, trying and failing not to cry. Tears blurred his vision as Draco lent down to pick up a small nut, which he rolled towards the mice's house. One of the used his nose to roll it towards the other one, who took over and pushed it into their home.

The Slytherin smiled, this time moving a couple of dandelions.

"It's a bit cold to be out at this time of night, Draco-dear. Not mention the lack of warmth in your clothing." Draco turned, startled, to see Molly Weasley in a multicoloured, patched up but warm-looking dressing gown.

"Oh, dear, what's the matter?"

The woman wrapped her arms around the blonde, hugging him close. It didn't help his tears at all, and Draco wailed as more tears cascaded down his pale cheeks.

"C-ch-Charlie." He hiccoughed into her shoulder.

"What has Charlie done?" Her tone implied large amounts of trouble for her genetic son. The protectiveness towards Draco was almost overwhelming.

"He doesn't care about me!" Draco was aware he sounded ridiculous, the marriage having been arranged as it was, but his hopes had risen enormously high.

"What gave you that impression?" Her tone was soft, waiting to hear the full story. Oddly, she didn't seem to be wanting to defend her son.

"He just rolled over and went to sleep."Draco's face burned red, and he found himself unable to explain properly.

"Oh that boy had better apologise!" She stroked Draco's hair. "I understand, dear. You needed a bit of reassurance, didn't you?"

Draco nodded mutely.

"Don't worry, Draco, I'll sort him out." She sounded resolved, and pulled back as if to confront her son straight away.

"No, don't. I don't want him to pretend to care."

"I do care, idiot." A sleepy, deep voice snuck into their conversation. Charlie was stood a few feet back, wearing nothing but his trousers, his hands running up and down to warm them.

"No you don't. You just want us to appear to be a normal couple." Draco accused.

"Rubbish. I didn't mean to give you that impression, love. You know I care."

"No, you don't. Otherwise I wouldn't feel so used."

"Used- oh." Charlie moved to try and hug Draco, Molly moving out of the way to let him, but Draco struggled.

"I don't want you near me now."

"Dray, I was trying to give you space. I meant to talk, to see if you wanted to cuddle. But I fell asleep. Surely you're not holding tiredness against me."

"Too right I am." But his voice held far less conviction than it had before.

"Draco, I have a dragon tattoo. Come on. AND it really hurt." He grinned.

"True."

Charlie leaned in to kiss Draco, and though he didn't kiss him back, this time the blonde let him.

"You don't believe me."

"Not quite."

"I'll just have to prove it. Every single day."

Charlie smiled, as if realising just how cliched he sounded. Draco couldn't help but smile back.

"Now, both of you, back to bed. You'll catch a cold, staying out here."

The two men caught each others eye, both suppressing laughter.

"Yes, mum." "Of course, Molly."

The End


End file.
